Surrender
by Paimpont
Summary: Harry writes a letter of surrender to Voldemort. The Dark Lord is intrigued. Slash HP/TR . COMPLETE.
1. A Letter to the Dark Lord

**~Surrender~**

...

**Summary:** Harry writes a letter of surrender to Voldemort. The Dark Lord is intrigued. **Slash HP/LV (TR).**

**Rating: M for slash (homoerotic relationship) in later chapters.**

**Warning: **This is a Harry Potter/Voldemort romance set during Harry's sixth year at Hogwarts. Read at your own risk.

...

**~Chapter 1~**

** A Letter to the Dark Lord**

**...**

The rain sighed softly against the windowpanes. Small silver drops burst against the glass and became translucent streaks of water. Harry reached out and traced the swirls of rain from the inside of the glass. His fingers left grimy smudges against the window, blurring his view of the outside world.

Harry sighed and tore his glance away from the rain. He read over the letter he had written one last time:

_To the Dark Lord,_

_I am tired of fighting you. I can't do this anymore. I am writing to inform you of my unconditional surrender. You will find me walking down Wisteria Lane in Little Whinging at noon tomorrow, away from the magical wards that surround my aunt and uncle's house. I will be alone and unarmed. Please kill me swiftly and mercifully. _

_Yours sincerely,_

_Harry Potter_

Harry swallowed, hard. Then he glanced up at the snow-white owl that perched on the windowsill. He stroked the soft white feathers, then rolled up the letter and tied it to the bird's leg with an unsteady hand. "Please... please take the letter to Lord Voldemort, Hedwig."

The owl stirred, reluctantly. She pushed her beak gently against Harry's temple, and her beak turned crimson.

Harry wiped the crusted blood off the bird's beak with his sleeve. "Oh. Sorry about that. Uncle Vernon has been worse than usual lately... Please, Hedwig." Harry stroked the feathers again. "Go now. It will be the last thing I ever ask of you. I... I just can't take it any more. Not after what happened to Sirius..."

He opened the window and pushed the reluctant bird firmly out into the rain. For a moment he stood silently, watching her as she disappeared into the misty distance. Then he sat down on his bed and waited.

...

Wisteria Lane was silent. The rain had turned to a light drizzle by now, and the rows of tidy houses were wreathed in a fine mist that lent a strange otherworldly air to the otherwise ordinary suburban lane. The sweet fragrance of lavender and hollyhock mingled with the scent of earth and rain. The deep silence of the deserted street, the profusion of pale violet wisteria cascading over garden walls, and the gossamer swirls of mist suddenly made the familiar street seem oddly enchanted. It was five minutes to noon, but the Dark Lord was nowhere to be seen. Harry glanced up and down the street. A Muggle man was sitting on a bench, reading the newspaper, and a grey and white cat was sauntering jauntily along the sidewalk, but no one else was about.

Harry waited. The seconds ticked away, endlessly.

Nothing.

Five minutes after noon. Why wasn't Voldemort coming?

Harry's glance flickered uncertainly to the man on the bench. He was a very ordinary sort of man in a grey business suit. His hair was dark, and he had a pleasant, rather nondescript face. The man looked up from his newspaper and smiled slightly at Harry.

Harry walked slowly over to the bench and sat down next to the stranger. They sat in silence for a few minutes. Harry noticed that the newspaper was not even slightly damp, in spite of the fact that the man had been sitting on a bench in the rain for a while.

He glanced up at the stranger and whispered: "It's _you_, isn't it?"

The man folded his newspaper up carefully and put it down on the bench next to him. Then he said softly: "Yes, Harry. It's me."

Harry nodded. His heart felt curiously light. "I'm ready."

"Ready for what?" The man's voice was pleasant, and try as he might, Harry could not see a trace of Voldemort in his features.

Harry swallowed. "I'm ready to die."

"I see." The stranger studied him intently for a moment. Harry was waiting for him to draw his yew wand, but he didn't. "May I ask why?"

Harry gazed up at him, puzzled. "Why what?"

"Why you wish to die. I must admit that I had not expected a letter like the one you sent me, and I am curious to learn what brought about your sudden change of heart."

Harry looked down. "I'm just... tired, okay? Really tired. Tired of everything."

"I see. What happened to your head?" The stranger's voice was soft. "That's a rather bad cut you've got there."

"My uncle." Harry wiped at his temple with his sleeve. Still bleeding. He frowned. "I don't mean to be rude, but would you mind getting this over with?"

The stranger's brown eyes lingered on his face. "Your uncle did this to you?" He put a hand under Harry's chin and turned the boy's face towards him. "You have other bruises, too, older ones. Why didn't you tell Dumbledore about this?"

Harry stared at him, warily. Why was Voldemort dragging things out like this? He shrugged. "I wrote to Dumbledore about it years ago. He never responded."

"Didn't he?" The stranger sat in silence for a few moments, gazing into the mist. Then he whispered, so softly that Harry almost couldn't hear him: "No, of course he didn't. Dumbledore never responds to letters like that..."

"Are you... are you going to kill me now?" It felt terribly odd, to ask a question like that of this pleasant-looking stranger.

The stranger put his hand on Harry's arm. "Kill you? All in good time, Harry. All in good time."

The next moment, everything went black, and Harry felt the air leaving his lungs. He squeezed his eyes shut and gasped for breath as he felt the world pressing against him. _Apparating. We are apparating somewhere._

When he opened his eyes, Harry was standing in a vast, gloomy sitting room next to the man in the grey suit. The room still bore traces of former grandeur; candles were flickering in a tarnished silver candelabra, marble seraphs surrounded the cold fireplace, and the furniture was old and tattered, but not without a certain somber elegance. Harry recognized the room from his dreams: This was the sitting room of the Riddle House, Voldemort's ancestral home. This is where the old caretaker had been murdered.

Harry swallowed. Of course. Of course death wasn't going to come as swiftly and painlessly as he had imagined. There would probably be torture involved. His glance flickered uncertainly to the unfamiliar form of the Dark Lord.

"Have a seat, Harry." The stranger indicated a dust-covered chair upholstered in faded silk.

Harry sat, obediently, and waited. Then the stranger began to change; the gentle face was slowly transformed into the pale familiar features of the Dark Lord. The Muggle suit darkened and billowed into a cloak. Scarlet eyes studied Harry's face intently.

"Dumbledore does not know about the letter you wrote me, I take it?" Voldemort's voice was still as gentle as that of the man on the bench.

Harry shook his head. "Nobody does. You can go ahead and kill me."

"So eager to die... How very curious." Voldemort didn't move; he merely regarded Harry with his crimson glance. It felt rather unnerving.

A door creaked open, and a small pudgy figure scurried in. "You are back, my Lord. Is there anything you require? Oh..." Peter Pettigrew caught sight of Harry. His eyes widened. "Oh. You caught Harry Potter, my Lord."

"Yes," said Lord Voldemort quietly. "It appears that I did, Wormtail. With rather less effort than I had imagined."

Something else was stirring by the door. Harry turned his head and saw a looming dark green shape in the shadows. _Nagini_.

He swallowed. Perhaps it had been naive to assume that the Dark Lord would finish him off with a simple, painless killing curse. Whatever. It would be over soon, anyway.

The serpent slithered towards Harry, hissing softly: _*Where did you come from, my green-eyed child? He is beautiful, master. His eyes are lovely. Will you let me have him, master?*_

Harry met the serpent's yellow gaze. He sighed in Parseltongue: *_I'm not a child. And I'm not yours.*_

The serpent froze. Its yellow eyes were fixed on Harry's face.

"What... What did you just say, Harry?" Voldemort's voice was a whisper.

Harry just shrugged.

_*Leave him, Nagini.* _At Voldemort's command, the serpent slithered reluctantly away. Harry felt the Dark Lord's glance linger on his face.

Voldemort spoke again, sharply: "Leave us alone, Wormtail. Close the door."

As soon as Pettigrew and the serpent were gone, the Dark Lord knelt down by Harry's chair.

*_Speak again, Harry.*_

Harry blinked, dazed. This was taking much longer than he had expected. Why didn't the Dark Lord just go ahead and kill him? *_You want me to speak Parseltongue?* _he whispered.

The scarlet eyes widened. Then the Dark Lord nodded. *_Yes, Harry. Yes, I want you to speak Parseltongue. Tell me... Tell me, child, how you come to speak the ancient serpent tongue. It shouldn't be possible. When did you learn to speak like this?*_

Harry thought for a moment, then shook his head. *_I don't know. I have always been able to speak to snakes. Can you kill me now?*_

"Kill you?" Voldemort said quietly. "Not until I understand this, Harry. _You, _Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, are a _Parselmouth_? How is that possible? You must be a descendant of Slytherin himself. I thought I was the only one left. How very, very odd..."

Harry was beginning to feel tired. "No. I'm not a descendant of Slytherin. Dumbledore said... He said that I got the ability to speak to snakes from _you_. I don't know how it works exactly, but he thinks that you accidentally transferred some of your own powers to me when you failed to kill me when I was a baby. He said that's why I've got _this._" He touched his scar.

"He said _what_?" Voldemort's voice sank to a whisper. "But that's absurd! I transferred some of my powers to you when I gave you the scar? That's nonsense. Magic is not transferable; even a child should know that."

A long, pale hand brushed Harry's scar lightly. Voldemort's hand was curiously cold to the touch. Harry could sense the Dark Lord's confusion now. _A trick. He thinks this is all a trick devised by Dumbledore, part of some grand plan. _

Harry sighed. "No, it's not a trick. And if Dumbledore has a plan, I don't know what it is."

"How... how do you know what I was thinking?" Voldemort's voice was barely audible. "Are you a legilimens as well? If so, you must be an immensely powerful one; I am an occlumens of considerable skill. How can a mere child know my thoughts?"

"I'm not a child." Harry was beginning to feel impatient. "Look, it's not important. I've always been able to sense your thoughts and your emotions; it's got something to do with my scar. Your magic misfired that night you killed my parents. You made me a Parselmouth, and you accidentally created a bond between us that night, that's all."

"That's _all_?" Voldemort sank down in a chair opposite Harry, staring at him. "You don't understand, child. That's not how magic _works!_ If magic could be transferred from one person to another, then any Muggle could become a wizard. What an absurd thought! It is impossible to transfer magical abilities to another."

"Then how did I suddenly get your ability to speak Parseltongue that night you fired the curse?" Harry felt confused. "And why am I able to read your mind? You must have transferred something of yourself to me."

"Something of myself?" Voldemort's pale features were whiter than death now. "I transferred _something of myself_ -?" He sat transfixed, staring at Harry. "But then... Is it possible? Merlin, it can't be... And yet it _must_. It is the only explanation possible. You are... You _must _be..."

Harry cleared his throat. "I'm sorry, but.. Are you going to kill me soon? It's rather unnerving, the waiting..."

"Kill you?" The Dark Lord's voice was suddenly hoarse. "_Kill _you? No, no, Harry. I will never kill you. I need to keep you safe from harm, always."

Harry blinked. "What?"

An icy hand brushed his face, gently. "This must be difficult for you to understand, Harry. But I see it now, finally. Yes, it all makes sense. You are my horcrux, my precious child."

"Horcrux?" Harry rubbed his forehead wearily. What on earth was Voldemort talking about?

Voldemort leaned forward. "You are my soul, Harry," he breathed. "My horcrux. When a murder is committed, it fragments the soul, you see. And it is possible to capture one of those shards of soul and embed it in an object after a murder. That way, the murderer can use his acts of violence to become immortal. I have used this magic several times to ensure my own immortality; I have hidden fragments of my soul in objects that are precious to me."

Harry stared at him. "Like... like your diary?"

Voldemort frowned slightly. "You know about my diary?"

Harry nodded. "I destroyed it when I was in my second year."

"You _destroyed_ a horcrux?" Voldemort looked startled. "That's not possible, Harry. How could a mere child destroy a horcrux? They are almost indestructible."

"I destroyed it with a basilisk fang. In the Chamber of Secrets, after I killed the basilisk. Er.. Sorry about that."

Harry held his breath, waiting for the Dark Lord's deathly fury. Instead, there was a soft laugh.

"You _killed_ the ancient basilisk and destroyed the horcrux? What an extraordinary child you are, Harry! But of course you are extraordinary; how could you _not_ be, seeing what you are?" A hand brushed lightly through his hair now. There was a glitter in the scarlet eyes. "Who cares about the diary, the tedious ramblings of a schoolboy, imbued with darkness? _This_ horcrux is infinitely more wondrous... A living horcrux! To think that I almost killed you, Harry!" The white hand trembled. "My horcrux..."

Harry felt dizzy. "You made me a horcrux? There is a piece of your soul in me?"

Voldemort nodded. "So it would seem, Harry. It was an accident - I had no idea... But it all makes sense now... Oh, don't look so worried, child. You don't need to fear me any more. I will protect you and keep you safe for ever. No harm will ever come to you."

Harry glanced at the white face of the Dark Lord. "You are _not_ going to kill me?"

"Of course not." Voldemort's voice was soft. "That bastard Dumbledore probably planned for us to kill each other in the end... Oh, don't look so shocked Harry; I've known him longer than you have, and that _is_ precisely the sort of thing he would do, "for the greater good". But you don't need to worry about him any more. I will watch over you for ever, my precious child."

"I'm... not a child."

Voldemort looked slightly taken aback. "That's right. Of course not. How old are you now? Fourteen?"

"Almost sixteen."

The Dark Lord frowned. "Really? You look younger. It must be those clothes you are wearing; they are much too big for you."

Harry looked down at his worn, baggy clothes. "They used to be my cousin's."

"They are impoverished then, the Muggles who look after you?"

Harry had to smile. "No, they do quite well for themselves. They just don't like me much. They think that even these hand-me-downs are a bit too good for me, actually."

"_Really?_" Voldemort studied Harry intently for a moment. "I will send for new clothes for you at once. You must tell me what else you want."

"What I _want_?" Harry looked at Voldemort, puzzled. Was he dreaming? Did the _Dark Lord_ just offer to buy him new clothes?

Voldemort smiled slightly. "It has been a long time since I was sixteen, my dear; you must remind me of what things a sixteen year old boy will want. Rare books of magic, perhaps? Precious objects? Jewels? Musicians? Girls?"

"_Girls_?" It took Harry a moment to understand, but when he did, he blushed deeply. "Er... no, thank you. I don't need anything."

Voldemort looked a little disappointed. "Nothing? But surely, there must be things you want? Just name them, Harry! Magical artifacts? Flying carpets? Servants? Goblin-made weapons? Elf-made wine?"

"Er..." Harry shook his head. All he really wanted was for Sirius to come back from the dead, but he didn't think even Voldemort could arrange for _that_. "Perhaps.. a little food?"

"Food! Yes, of course!" Voldemort looked delighted. "Why didn't I think of that? You must be famished. I will have a house-elf bring you some right away. What sorts of food do you like?"

Harry thought about it. "I... I have no idea. They were always starving me at the Dursleys, so I just ate whatever I could get my hands on. And at Hogwarts there was always a lot of food, and I ate everything. I have never really thought about what I like."

"Hmm." Voldemort looked at him thoughtfully. "Well, I'll just have the house elf bring you a little of everything, then, until we can sort our what your preferences are." He glanced around the dilapidated sitting room with a frown. "And I really _must_ have the house elf do something about this house as well; this place looks disgraceful."

...

When Harry woke up the next day, the Riddle House had undergone a miraculous transformation; the marble floors were gleaming, the furniture was dusted and repaired, and the table was set with delicate china, crystal goblets and glittering silver. Peter Pettigrew was summarily dismissed when Voldemort noticed that Harry winced at the sight of him, and five new house elves appeared out of nowhere.

Harry, still half convinced that this was all just some terribly strange dream, did rather enjoy the next few weeks at the Riddle House. He was given a soft bed and lots of food, and the Dark Lord seemed to have developed an odd new obsession with keeping him happy.

Upon seeing that Harry was still rather startled at times by his monstrous appearance, Voldemort offered to assume the form of the suit-clad Muggle again, but this idea struck Harry as too bizarre. His life had become surreal enough already; sipping elf-made wine with a Dark Lord who looked like a London stock broker would probably make him lose what little was left of his mind. In the end, they settled on the form of Tom Riddle, the handsome schoolboy Harry had seen in the diary, and the Dark Lord had been a boy with dark curls ever since.

One day, Harry accidentally called Dark Lord "Tom", and Tom he was from then on. Tom was always by Harry's side, anxious to indulge his slightest whim, but after weeks of indulgence, Harry had no more whims left. Tom seemed so absurdly happy when he asked for things, so Harry tried his hardest to think of something, but he was beginning to run out of ideas. Hedwig had showed up at his bedroom window, and Tom had bought her a magnificent gold cage and large boxes of owl nuts. Tom had retrieved Harry's school trunk and his wand from the Dursleys, "accidentally" setting their house on fire in the process, but much to Tom's regret and Harry's relief, the Dursleys had escaped unharmed. Harry had beautiful clothes, soft pillows, golden snitches and splendid broomsticks, chocolate frog cards and cake, and he couldn't for the life of him think of any other things he wanted.

"You look sad," whispered Tom one afternoon as they sat in front of the fireplace together. "You don't still want to die, do you?"

Harry shook his head slowly.

"Then what do you want, Harry? Come on, tell me."

Harry looked into the flickering flames. "I am beginning to miss my friends, Tom."

"Your friends?" Tom got up. "I will get them for you. Which ones do you want? Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger? They are your favorites, right?"

Harry had to laugh. "You can't just bring me the world on a silver platter forever, Tom. I miss Ron and Hermione, but I also miss Hogwarts. It's almost September; the new school year will begin in a few days. I want to go to Hogwarts, Tom."

"To Hogwarts?" There was a sudden note of anxiousness in Tom's voice. "No, Harry, that's not safe. I don't trust Dumbledore at all, and if your friends had been capable of looking after you properly, you wouldn't have begged the Dark Lord to kill you a few weeks ago. I have been trying to make you happy; I can't have you go away and get all unhappy again. I absolutely cannot allow you to go back to Hogwarts."

"But it's what I want, Tom. I miss Hogwarts, and I miss my friends."

Tom sighed deeply and ran his fingers through his dark curls, messing them up completely. "Oh, come now, Harry, that's not fair! You _know_ I'll do whatever you want when your lovely emerald eyes get all moist like that. But I need to know that you are safe, Harry..." He stood for a moment, irresolute. Then he lit up. "Ah! I know what to do now! Why didn't I think of that before?"

"Think of what?" Harry had to smile when he saw how pleased Tom looked.

"I'll come with you, of course!" Tom sat down on the floor next to him again. "That way I can watch over you and keep you safe, _and_ you can go to school and see your friends. It will be rather nice to be at Hogwarts again, after all these years. You must admit that it's a wonderful idea, Harry!"

Harry laughed. "You can't get into Hogwarts, Tom; there are all sorts of wards and spells to keep you out. And even if you could enter the castle somehow, people would recognize you."

Tom's silver eyes glittered. "Of course they won't. I have thought of an ingenious plan, Harry. I will come with you, and no one will have any idea who I am."


	2. Going to Hogwarts

**~Surrender~**

**Rating: M for slash (homoerotic relationship) in later chapters.**

**Warning: **This is a Harry Potter/Voldemort romance set during Harry's sixth year at Hogwarts. Read at your own risk.

...

**~Chapter 2~**

** Going to Hogwarts**

...

The marble fireplace of Riddle House had stood cold and empty for years. But this unseasonably chilly August afternoon, a fire was blazing in the grate, and the flickering flames cast their soft glow over the delicate friezes of angels carved around the fireplace. A pale young man with dark curls and silver eyes stood in front of the fire, looking remarkably like one of the marble angels himself.

"I need your blood, Draco." Tom Riddle pulled a small dagger from his robes and turned calmly to one of his visitors. The dagger glittered silver in the dancing light from the fireplace.

"What-?" Draco Malfoy's grey eyes widened at the sight of the dagger, and he looked even paler than usual. His glance drifted anxiously to Harry, who was sitting in an armchair by the fire.

Lucius Malfoy, who had been sitting on the silk-upholstered sofa, jumped up. "Please, my lord... Take my blood instead, I beg you!"

Tom sighed deeply. "Oh, for Merlin's sake, Lucius! Do you think I imperiused half the Ministry and got you out of Azkaban just so you could witness your son's murder? I'm not going to kill Draco. I merely require some of his blood. I can't use yours for this. Hold still, Draco."

Draco shivered as Tom reached for his arm, but Lucius inclined his head slightly. "In that case, my lord, my son will be honored to give you his blood."

"Of... of course, my lord..." Draco's voice faltered. He held out his arm and squeezed his eyes shut. He bit his lip and moaned a little as Tom made a rapid cut in his arm. Tom caught the blood in a little vial, stoppered it, and regarded the crimson liquid with a look of great satisfaction. "There! That should do it!"

Draco studied the red line on his arm. "That's going to leave a scar."

"Then you should wear it as proudly as a Dark Mark," said Lucius softly. His glance flickered over to Tom. "May I... may I ask what it is that you intend to do with his blood, my lord? Are you going to... to keep my son captive here at the Riddle House, like Potter? Is this some sort of bonding magic?"

Tom's angelic face was marred by a sudden frown. "Oh, don't be absurd, Lucius. Harry is not my prisoner; he is my friend and my guest. Much has changed between Harry and myself lately. He is more precious to me than anything in the world now." He stroked Harry's hair gently.

Draco made a small strangled sound. Lucius grasped at the mantelpiece for support; his mouth opened and closed, but no words came out.

"And therefore," continued Tom serenely, "it is vital that Harry is kept safe when he returns to Hogwarts. I will go with him myself, in order to protect him. Since I can't very well enter the castle as myself, I have decided to assume Draco's form for the time being."

Lucius stared at him. "You... You will go to Hogwarts as my son, my lord?"

Tom nodded. "That is correct, Lucius. It is actually rather convenient; I had a small matter I wanted to ask Draco to take care of for me at Hogwarts this year, but now I can attend to it myself. Of course, mere polyjuice potion will not get me past the protective wards that surround the castle, but I have come up with a rather interesting new variation of the potion that involves the use of blood rather than hair, and a few spells in the ancient Sumerian dialect of Emesal. I am fairly certain I will be able to enter Hogwarts in Draco's form without anyone being any wiser."

"You will go to Hogwarts as _me, _my lord?" whispered Draco.

"Yes, I will. What, you don't think I'd make a good Slytherin, Draco?"

Lucius' lips quivered in a slight smile. "I don't think Slytherin himself would make a better Slytherin, my lord."

Tom put the vial of blood carefully away in the pocket of his robe. "Of course, Draco will have to stay home with you this year, Lucius, and you need to be careful that he is not seen outside Malfoy Manor."

"Certainly, my lord. The boy's mother will no doubt be very pleased to have him home the whole year. But his school work-?" Lucius glanced at Draco.

"His _school work_?" Tom raised an eyebrow. "Oh, I am sure you are capable of instructing Draco at home, Lucius, if you are concerned about his learning." Tom's silver eyes glittered. "And if you are worried about his grades, I can assure you that my intellectual capacities far exceed those of your son. I think you will find that his grades will be flawless this year. Draco will qualify for any position he wants in the wizarding world after this."

Lucius smiled ever so slightly. "I do not doubt it, my lord."

"But what about my... my friends?" whispered Draco. For some reason, his usually pale cheeks turned red.

Harry burst out laughing. "Your _friends?_ Oh, come on, Malfoy. You know that Crabbe and Goyle are much too dense to see through Tom's disguise."

"_Tom-?_" Draco stared at Harry for a moment, uncomprehending. Then he glanced at the Dark Lord, and his eyes widened. "Oh..."

"Crabbe and Goyle? Well, if they are anything like their fathers, I wouldn't worry about _them_," muttered Tom.

"And... and I'm a prefect...," murmured Draco.

Tom lit up. "Oh, excellent! That will make it a great deal easier for me to look after Harry properly."

"Draco's also on the Quidditch team, Tom" said Harry thoughtfully. "He plays Seeker for Slytherin. I suppose you will have to fake an injury of some sort to get out of playing."

Tom was grinning now. "Fake an injury? I will do no such thing, Harry. I'm an excellent Quidditch player! I will have you know that I _was_ Slytherin Seeker myself once."

"You were?" Harry stared at him in disbelief. "_Voldemort_ played Quidditch? When was that? 1925?"

Tom snorted. "For your information, you impertinent child, it was 1942. It's not _that_ long ago."

"Yeah. Right." Harry smiled. "We'd better start practicing this afternoon, Tom - your Quidditch skills may be a little rustier than you think. I think you will find that brooms are a little faster these days than you remember."

"Oh, nonsense, Harry. I am a very fast flier. With _or_ without a broom. You'll see, my dear." Tom turned to Lucius. "You and Narcissa will bring Harry and me to King's Cross Station on the first of September, Lucius. If anyone asks - and I'm sure they will - where the Boy Who Lived has been for the past weeks, you can tell them that he was abused by his Muggle relatives and that you felt compelled to remove him from those surroundings."

"Certainly, my lord." Lucius' dark grey eyes lingered on Harry. After a moment's hesitation, he asked: "May I ask if that is true, my lord?"

"Yes," said Tom shortly. "I'm afraid it is."

"But surely Dumbledore would not have allowed-"

Tom rounded on him in a sudden flash of fury. "Do _not_ mention that name to me again, Lucius, or I shall cut out your tongue."

Lucius nodded silently. He glanced curiously at Harry, and a slight frown passed over his pale sculptured features.

...

"Well? What do you think?" The pale, flaxen-haired boy in the Slytherin robes turned to Harry. "Do I look like Draco Malfoy?"

Harry smiled and shook his head. "No. You look like the Dark Lord in disguise, Tom."

"Really?" Tom peered at himself in the old silver mirror that hung over the fireplace. He brushed a lock of white-gold hair out of his eyes. "No, you are wrong, Harry. I look _exactly_ like Draco Malfoy."

"You have Draco's appearance, but your mannerisms are all wrong. First of all, Draco doesn't have that imperial air about him, as if knows perfectly well that he is the most powerful wizard alive. Try more of a nervous arrogance instead."

"Oh." Tom studied his face in the mirror. "How's this, then?"

"Better." Harry scrutinized the face in the mirror as well. "But you might try sneering a little; Draco sneers quite often."

"Really? I've never seen him sneer."

Harry sighed. "Of course not. I can't imagine that he would sneer much around you. People don't sneer at the Dark Lord."

"Perhaps not." Tom sneered at his reflection. "Is this good?"

Harry laughed. "Perfect. But you will look like Tom Riddle again when we are alone, right?"

"Of course. I can change back any time. We will see each other during the day, if course, and I will come and visit you in Gryffindor Tower at night when everyone is sleeping."

"You can't, Tom. There are passwords-"

Tom sighed. "Oh, please, Harry. I _am _the Dark Lord. Of course I will be able to get into Gryffindor Tower once I'm inside Hogwarts. Why, I recall a few visits to the Gryffindor dormitory back in my own schooldays..."

"_What_?" Harry stared at him. "What were you doing there?"

"Oh, nothing terribly important," said Tom airily. He studied his face in the mirror again. "You know, Draco is not a bad-looking boy. I wonder if he has a girlfriend. I should have asked him."

Harry shrugged. "I have no idea. I see him with Pansy Parkinson a lot, but I don't know if they are together or not."

Tom grinned. "Well, I guess we are about to find out. Is Miss Parkinson pretty?"

Harry stared at him, aghast. "Please tell me you wouldn't-"

"Oh, you don't think I should pursue Miss Parkinson?" The smile that danced over the pale face was _definitely _not Draco's. "Well, then I won't, my dear. What about you, Harry? Do you have a girlfriend?"

Harry pondered this for a moment. "Not really. I was seeing a bit of a Ravenclaw girl named Cho Chang last year, but it didn't work out terribly well."

"Good." Another slight smile brushed over the blond boy's face. "That means you've got more time to spend with _me_."

"I'll want to spend time with Ron and Hermione as well."

"Well, of course. We can all be friends."

Harry shook his head. "I don't think that's going to work, Tom. Draco and I have always been enemies; it will look terribly strange if we suddenly start being best friends."

"Well, people change, don't they?" Tom studied his face in the mirror again. "Besides, if people start asking too many questions about us spending time together, I can always spread the rumor that we are secret lovers."

"What? Me and _Draco_?" Harry buried his head in his hands and groaned. "Please, _please _don't."

"Why not?" Tom smiled at his false reflection in the mirror. "Draco's rather handsome, and you are completely adorable. We'd make a lovely couple."

...

A strange hush fell over Platform 9 3/4 as Harry and Tom stepped through the barrier with Lucius and Narcissa. Students and parents turned and stared, and Harry heard someone whisper: "Oh, Merlin! It's Harry Potter! He's with Draco Malfoy-? He's still alive! But the Daily Prophet said..."

The next moment, someone shrieked, and Hermione and Ron came barreling down the platform, pushing small students unceremoniously aside as they ran towards Harry.

Hermione flung herself around Harry's neck. "Harry! Oh, my God, Harry! You are _alive_!"

A second pair of arms surrounded Harry, and Ron's familiar voice muttered: "Blimey! It's good to see you, mate!"

The next moment, Ron and Hermione were both shoved aside, and Molly Weasley grasped Harry so tightly that he couldn't breathe. "Harry! Where in Merlin's name have you _been_? We thought you had been killed by You-Know-Who..." Tears were streaming down her face now.

"_You!_" Molly suddenly let go of Harry and rounded on Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy. "So _you_ are behind this, are you? I should have known! How did you get out of Azkaban anyway, Lucius? What the hell did you do to Harry?" She paused to draw her breath. "_Well_?"

Lucius and Narcissa took a few rapid steps backwards. "My dear Mrs. Weasley..." Lucius began weakly.

Molly snorted. "Don't you 'Mrs. Weasley' me, Lucius. Did you harm him? I swear, if any harm has come to Harry, I am going to-"

Harry felt Tom's arm on his shoulder. "Is this your friend Ron's mother? I rather like her."

Tom cleared his throat and tossed his now white-blond hair out of his eyes the way Draco often did. "Please, Mrs. Weasley. My parents were compelled to remove Harry from his Muggle relatives' home for his own protection. They were starving and beating him."

Molly's kind brown eyes widened. "Oh..." She studied Harry intently. "Well, you don't look as thin as you usually do at the end of the summer... _Somebody_ must have been feeding you since you went missing." She looked doubtfully at Narcissa Malfoy, as if believing her incapable of such a thing. "But... but you should have written to us instead, Harry. We would have come for you. Dumbledore would have-"

"Dumbledore," said Tom coldly, "has sent Harry back to live with his relatives every summer, Mrs. Weasley."

Molly looked unhappy. "Yes. Yes, I know, but he said it was for Harry's own protection, so You-Know-Who wouldn't get at him."

"Albus Dumbledore," said Narcissa Malfoy stiffly, "allowed a young wizard to be mistreated at the hands of _Muggles_ for years."

Molly swallowed. "I... I suppose Dumbledore must have had his reasons..." She glanced doubtfully at Harry and hugged him again. "I'm just so glad you are all right, Harry." She kissed him on both cheeks. "Now, get on the train, all of you. You don't want to be late."

Harry turned to Tom. To his surprise, the grey eyes of the boy next to him were slightly moist as he gazed at the splendid scarlet steam engine that waited at the platform.

"You coming, Draco?"

Tom blinked rapidly. "Yes. Yes, of course. It's beautiful, isn't it, Harry? The Hogwarts Express? I had forgotten how magnificent it looks..."

"Goodbye then, Draco," said Lucius, a little stiffly. He hesitated, then gave Tom a quick hug. It looked rather awkward, but Harry didn't think anyone noticed.

"Goodbye, Father," said Tom quickly. "Mother..."

Narcissa shuddered ever so slightly and pecked Tom lightly on the cheek. "Goodbye... _Draco_. Run along and get on the train now."

Harry hurried after Tom, Ron, and Hermione down the platform, ignoring all the curious stares and murmurs. Suddenly, he heard Tom give a little chuckle by his side.

"Well, well, _well_! If it isn't 1942 all over again!" whispered Tom in Harry's ear. "What is _he_ doing here?"

Harry followed Tom's glance. A portly wizard in plum-colored velvet robes was just stepping onto the train.

"Who's that?" Harry frowned. "I've never seen him before in my life."

"Must be the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher." Ron was looking at the portly wizard as well.

The new teacher turned around briefly and scanned the platform. As his glance fell on Harry, he froze. An expression of absolute delight spread slowly over his plump face.

Harry groaned. "Whoever he is, I think he just recognized me."

"As long as he doesn't recognize _me…_" breathed Tom in his ear. "We go way back, Horace and I. He's the one who taught me about horcruxes in the first place." There was a sudden mischievous glitter in his grey eyes. "We are going to have some fun at Hogwarts this year, Harry!"

"Merlin's beard! It's _Harry Potter!_" The portly little man jumped off the train with surprising agility and pounced on Harry, clasping his hand warmly. "I've seen your picture in the papers, of course. My dear boy, we all thought some sort of disaster had befallen you! And yet, here you are – about to step on the Hogwarts Express!"

"Harry's safety was threatened, sir," put in Tom quickly. "He was no longer safe with his Muggle relatives, and my father had to step in and rescue him at the last moment." He lowered his voice to a confidential whisper. "It was all rather hush-hush; not even Dumbledore knows all the details. I really shouldn't be talking about it, sir…" He regarded the plump wizard with a little smile.

"Ah, I see!" The new teacher beamed at Tom now and gave him a conspiratorial wink. "Well, then I won't push you for details, at least not quite yet, my young friend. Mr. Malfoy, is it?"

"Yes, sir. I am Draco Malfoy, sir." Tom smiled pleasantly. "And you must be Horace Slughorn, the talented potions maker. I have heard quite a bit about you from my friend Gwenog, sir."

Professor Slughorn regarded Tom with interest. "Ah, you are a friend of Gwenog Jones', are you, Mr. Malfoy? I was not aware of that. And your father just rescued Harry Potter from danger, you say?" He beamed at Harry. "Now, Harry, my boy, I would be delighted if you and young Mr. Malfoy would care to join me in my compartment for a light luncheon. Just a small select group of students and myself."

Harry's glance flickered to Ron and Hermione. "Thank you, sir, but I was anxious to see my friends."

Hermione squeezed his hand. "Oh, we would have loved to stay with you, Harry, but I'm afraid we can't. The prefects are supposed to ride in a separate compartment, you see, and we have to patrol the corridors."

Slughorn grasped Harry's arm and steered him onto the train. "It's all settled then, Harry. You and Mr. Malfoy will come with me, and you will catch up with your friends later. Oh, you are a prefect too, Mr. Malfoy? Well, I guess it's just you and me, then, Harry. Come along now."

_I'll join you as soon as I can,_ whispered a voice in Harry's head. Harry turned and smiled slightly at Tom.

"Catch you later, all right, Harry?" Hermione touched his arm gently. "We can't wait to hear about what happened to you." She looked rather coldly at Tom. "But then, I suppose _Draco_ will tell us all about it in the prefects' carriage."

Tom smiled serenely at her. "Oh, no doubt. Harry and I have become quite friendly over the past few weeks."

"_Have _you, now?" Hermione cast him a glance of deep suspicion as they walked down the corridor together.


	3. Arriving

**~Surrender~**

**Rating: M for slash (homoerotic relationship) in later chapters.**

**Warning: **This is a Harry Potter/Voldemort romance set during Harry's sixth year at Hogwarts. Read at your own risk.

...

**~Chapter 3~**

**Arriving**

**...**

The Hogwarts Express puffed slowly out of the station. Outside the window, the platform vanished into the pearl-grey mist that always seemed to hover over King's Cross Station on the first of September. Harry glanced around the corridor of the train. A few stragglers were hurrying along, opening doors and looking for seats. Everything was so familiar that it suddenly seemed to Harry as if the past weeks at Riddle House had just been some sort of bizarre dream.

Harry swallowed. What if he _had_ dreamt it all? What if the old Voldemort was still out there somewhere, a cold, monstrous creature wanting him dead? What if the wizarding world still expected Harry to perform strange miracles far beyond his capabilities, to save them all from the monster? What if Draco was... just Draco? What if Tom, his obsessive protector, was just a dream?

Harry blinked away the sudden tears that rose in his eyes at the thought. All at once, he became aware that Professor Slughorn was staring at him.

"You all right, Harry?" asked the professor softly.

Harry nodded.

Slughorn smiled slightly. "You know, Harry, for a moment there, you looked so remarkably like your mother, Lily. Yes, yes, my dear boy, I knew both your mother and your father when they went to Hogwarts. Your eyes... They are exactly like your mother's. How very remarkable..." Slughorn's voice drifted off, and he stood irresolute for a moment, lost in thought. Then he grasped Harry by the arm and steered him down the corridor.

"Look, everyone! You won't believe who I found on the platform!" Professor Slughorn ushered Harry into his compartment with an air of triumph.

Harry looked around the unfamiliar compartment in bewilderment. This was clearly not an ordinary Hogwarts Express compartment. The walls were paneled in gleaming dark wood with mother-of pearl inlays in the shapes of twisting serpents, and there were more serpentine patterns in the waxed parquet flooring. The plush benches were upholstered in emerald velvet, and snow-white table cloths covered claw-foot mahogany tables. Monogrammed china with "HS" in golden letters balanced on the tables, and delectable smells wafted from several large baskets along the wall.

"Harry?" A startled whisper came from the corner seat. "You are _alive_?" Ginny looked up at Harry, an expression of wonder in her brown eyes.

"I knew it!" To Harry's surprise, Neville Longbottom was sitting in Slughorn's compartment as well. His round face lit up when he saw Harry. "See, I _told_ you, didn't I, Ginny, that there was no way You-Know-Who would have been able to kill him! Good to see you, Harry!"

Harry smiled and shook Neville's hand warmly, flushing with guilt as he realized that his friends must have been worried sick about him.

"Where have you _been, _Harry?" Harry almost wished that there had been anger in Ginny's glance, rather than worry.

He flushed again. "With... with the Malfoys, actually. I had some trouble with my relatives, you see, and the Malfoys got me out of there."

"_What_?" Ginny stared at him. "But why-"

"Ah, so you two know each other!" interrupted Slughorn pleasantly. "And you know Mr. Zabini, of course, Harry; he's in your year."

"Hello, Harry. How are you?" A tall, handsome Slytherin boy greeted Harry with a little smile. Harry felt slightly confused. Why was _Zabini_ so friendly to him all of a sudden? He had always just snarled briefly at Harry in passing before. Apparently, Harry's new association with the Malfoys seemed to work some sort of magic among the Slytherins.

"And this is Cormac McLaggen and Marcus Belby, both in their seventh year," continued Slughorn happily.

The two seventh year students greeted Harry stiffly, and Harry sank down into an open seat, trying desperately to avoid Ginny's quizzical glance.

"My, my, _what_ a pleasant surprise!" chirped Slughorn. "The Boy Who Lived! I must admit that your recent mysterious disappearance had us all worried, but I should have known that the Chosen One could _never_ surrender to You-Know-Who!" He began passing the baskets of food around the compartment. "Now, Harry my boy, you _must _try the _pâté de_ c_anard en croûte_..."

...

"Harry! Wait up!"

Harry stopped and grinned at Ron, who was pushing his way through the throngs of students who were spilling off the train at Hogsmeade station at dusk. "It's good to see you, Ron!"

"You too, mate. How was your lunch with the new professor?"

Harry grimaced. "Good food, tiresome company. Except for Neville and Ginny, of course. The rest were Slytherins. Old Slughorn's friendly enough, but I think he only invited me to lunch because I'm famous."

"Oh, one of _those._" Ron was full of sympathy.

"How... how were things in the prefects' compartment?" Harry asked delicately.

Ron thought for a minute. "Well... It was sort of strange, really. At first, Hermione just sat there glaring at Malfoy, as any sensible person would, but then they started talking."

"Talking? About what?"

Ron rubbed his freckled nose thoughtfully. "Well, mostly about _you_, actually. Hermione had a lot of rather pointed questions about where exactly you had been, and why you hadn't written to anybody. She was beginning to sound quite a bit like my Mum. But then Malfoy snapped right back at her and started asking _us _all sorts of questions."

"What... what sorts of questions?"

Ron hesitated. "Well... He had a lot of questions about your relatives, and whether we knew how badly they were treating you. He was quite angry, actually. Is it true that they were _beating _you? I didn't know that. You should have _told_ us, Harry! Anyway, Hermione answered all his questions sort of stiffly at first. I mean, what business does _Malfoy_ have asking questions about you? But when she heard about your uncle hitting you, she had to agree with Malfoy that Dumbledore should have done something about it a long time ago."

"Oh." Harry didn't know what to say.

"And then..." Ron shook his head slowly. "... then comes the part I don't get. Malfoy started asking all sorts of strange personal questions about you, like whether you are still sad about things not working out with Cho, and what kinds of things make you happy, and what your favorite color is. And then Malfoy mentioned something about the color of your eyes, and Hermione began smiling at him in this weird sort of way, like it suddenly made perfect _sense_ to her that he was asking about all that stuff. And when I tried to butt in and tell Malfoy to shut it, Hermione asked me if I knew what _her_ favorite color was, and of course I didn't, so she got a bit huffy. I mean, who goes around knowing other people's favorite color? I don't even know what _my_ favorite color is, let alone any of my friends'."

"Right."

"And then, when Malfoy left the compartment for a minute _t__o go and see if you were all right - _can you believe it_ -_ I told Hermione that I thought it was rather rum, the way Malfoy was suddenly so interested in you. I mean, he's always hated you, hasn't he? And suddenly, the Malfoys come and get you from the Dursleys, and Malfoy himself wants to know what sort of bloody _music_ you like. And back at the station, I caught him looking at you in this funny way like you were a rare chocolate frog card or something. It's all pretty suspicious, if you ask _me. _He's up to _something. _But when I told Hermione that none of this makes any sense, she just sighed and said that it was all rather adorable, but of course _I_ wouldn't understand how things had changed between you and Malfoy, since I have a spoonful of feelings... No, that wasn't it... A teacup of emotions? Something like that." Ron sighed. "Anyway, it was all terribly odd. Very rum, Harry."

"Er... Where's Malfoy now, anyway?"

Ron glanced back. "Still talking to Hermione, I suppose. There they are - let's wait for them."

To Harry's surprise, Tom and Hermione were stepping off the train together, chatting like old friends. But to his dismay, he heard Tom say as they approached: "...and of course you are right, Hermione, he really _must_ take his studies more seriously... Ah, there you both are!" Tom lit up as his glance fell on Harry, and Hermione smiled to herself.

The four of them ended up sharing a carriage, and much to Harry's relief, Ron interrupted Tom and Hermione's in-depth analysis of his academic shortcomings with news of his brother Bill's engagement. Apparently, Bill had gotten engaged over the summer, to Fleur Delacour, of all people.

"Mum and Ginny are all upset about it," mused Ron. "Ginny actually seems to think that Bill should be going with _Tonks_ instead. _Tonks! _Tonks is nice enough of course, but no bloke in his right mind would pick _her_ over Fleur."

Hermione snorted disdainfully and ignored Ron for the rest of the carriage ride.

_You all right, Harry? _whispered a voice in Harry's mind. Harry smiled slightly at Tom and nodded.

Harry leaned out of the carriage window and breathed in the cool evening air. He could make out the dark shapes of the thestrals against the deep blue shades of evening. He glanced quickly over at Tom. _He can see the thestrals, too, _he thought. _He can see them better than anyone... _He swallowed. The setting sun was molten gold at the horizon. Hogwarts came into view, a dark silhouette against the gathering twilight. Harry could feel his heart beating faster, as it always did when he saw the familiar shape of the castle. _I wonder how this feels for Tom,_ he thought to himself. _Going back to Hogwarts, to the place where he was once just Tom Riddle, before he ever became Voldemort... _

As the four of them stepped out of the carriage together, a dark shape suddenly loomed before them.

"Mr. Potter!" Snape's black hair hung limply in front of his pale face, and there was a curious expression in his dark eyes that Harry could not interpret.

_My, my, isn't Severus looking somber today_, whispered an amused voice in Harry's head.

"I see that the rumors of your death were an exaggeration, as usual." Harry thought for a moment that there was a slight tremor in Snape's icy voice. No, he must have imagined it.

"Mr. Potter, the headmaster wishes to see you immediately. You will proceed straight to his office." No, Snape's voice was as calm and unpleasant as ever.

"I will take him there," said Tom quickly.

Snape glared at him. "Don't be absurd. You will do no such thing, Mr. Malfoy. You will go to the Slytherin dormitory, as usual. Even a student of Mr. Potter's meager intellect should be capable of finding his way - _Ah_!" He broke off and rubbed his arm gingerly, a sudden expression of alarm on his pale face.

"Are you all right, Professor?" asked Tom innocently. He shook a flaxen strand of hair out of his eyes and smiled at Snape.

"Just fine, thank you, Mr. Malfoy." Snape fixed Tom with his inscrutable black stare. "How _very_ kind of you to be concerned. Follow me, please."

Snape's glance lingered on Tom as they walked in silence towards the castle. Harry held his breath when they reached the front gates, but Tom passed through the wards easily.

_Don't worry, Harry,_ came Tom's voice in Harry's mind. _I will follow you to Dumbledore's office. I will never leave you alone with him._

_You can always use my invisibility cloak, _thought Harry_. __It's in my school trunk_.

A ripple of laughter ran through Tom's mind. _An invisibility cloak? Oh, don't be silly, Harry; invisibility cloaks are just children's playthings. They never work properly. _

_Mine does, _whispered Harry's mind back. _It makes you perfectly invisible. I've used it a lot. It used to be my father's. _

_Really? _Tom glanced at him curiously. _Your father left you a perfect invisibility cloak? Did he happen to leave you a wand of elder and a little stone as well? _

_What? _Harry felt confused.

_Never mind. I'll tell you about it later, my dear. A charming little bedtime story. You will find it rather amusing._

_..._

"Harry!" Dumbledore rose from his chair as Harry entered the headmaster's office. His ancient, lined face was filled with gentle worry. "You are safe! Where is Merlin's name have you _been_?" The headmaster's voice trembled. "You have given us all a terrible fright, Harry."

_I'm right here, _whispered a voice in Harry's mind. Harry sensed a slight movement behind him, and he smiled to himself.

"I spent a few weeks with the Malfoys, Professor."

Dumbledore studied him intently over his half-moon glasses. "So it is true, then? I must admit that I was rather astonished when I got the first patronus telling me you were seen with Lucius and Narcissa at King's Cross." Dumbledore's blue gaze met Harry's. "What in heaven's name _happened, _Harry? Were you imperiused? I thought I had taken every possible precaution-"

"My relatives were beating me, sir. Since... since you already knew about that and chose not to do anything about it, I sent an owl to the Malfoys instead." Harry had practiced his story several times with Tom back at the Riddle House.

"You sent an owl to the _Malfoys?" _Dumbledore looked terribly frail and old all of a sudden. "What on earth possessed you do such a dangerous and reckless thing, my boy? Lucius Malfoy is a death eater; you know that as well as I do. Yes, yes, I know that he managed to get himself out of Azkaban somehow, but that does not change what he is, Harry. You saw him with Lord Voldemort at the Ministry yourself. You were lucky, extraordinarily lucky, that the Malfoys did not turn you over to Lord Voldemort. In fact, I am rather amazed that they did not. How could you take such a risk, Harry? What if something had happened to you, the hope of the wizarding world? Had you forgotten all the people who count on you, Harry? My dear boy, why didn't you write to the Weasleys if you were unhappy? Why the _Malfoys_?"

Harry looked down at the carpet and whispered: "The Weasleys would have contacted _you_, sir. I was afraid you would send me back to the Dursleys."

Dumbledore sank down in his chair. A deep sigh escaped him. "Look, Harry, I am truly sorry about any discomfort you may have suffered at the hands of your relatives, I really am. I know that they are far less than ideal guardians, but you must realize that I send you there for a _reason! _Your aunt and uncle's house is the only place other than Hogwarts where you are perfectly safe from Lord Voldemort." He looked at Harry with a kind gaze. "Life sometimes brings us suffering, Harry, but we must learn to bear it with fortitude. Sometimes... sometimes we have to make personal sacrifices for the greater good." His voice was gentle.

Harry felt Tom stir behind him. A voice whispered in his mind: _What the hell happened to his hand? Look at his hand, Harry. _

Harry's glance fell on Dumbledore's hands, which were folded on his desk, as if in prayer. His left hand looked normal, but his right hand was horribly charred, black and skeletal against the golden light from the desk lamp. Something gleamed in the lamplight, and Harry saw that there was a ring on Dumbledore's uninjured hand that he had never noticed before, an old gold ring, set with a night-black stone of some sort.

"What happened to your hand, sir?" he whispered.

"My hand?" Dumbledore smiled at Harry. It was a reassuring, familiar smile. "I dare say I will tell you all about it one day, Harry." His blue eyes twinkled. "I cannot tell you how relieved I am that you are safely back at Hogwarts. But I must warn you yet again, Harry, against trusting the Malfoys. Did you suffer any abuse at their hands during your stay there?"

Harry shook his head. "Oh, no, they were very kind, actually."

"_Were _they?" Dumbledore frowned slightly. "I still cannot comprehend why they would... Oh, never mind, Harry. What matters is that you are safe, even after your rash and foolhardy actions this summer." A benign smile formed behind his beard. "It is a pity that I could not find you this summer, Harry. I had an important mission for you."

"A mission?"

Dumbledore beamed. "Yes, a mission, Harry. I wanted you to help me bring Professor Slughorn to Hogwarts. I thought that your presence may have made it easier to convince him to accept the offer I extended to him."

"Oh." Harry pondered this for a moment. "Well, he came anyway, didn't he?"

Dumbledore nodded. "In the end, yes. But it would have saved me a great deal of trouble if you could have been there... Anyway, Harry, we have a great deal to talk about, you and I. I think it is time for me to take a more active role in your education from now on. I have decided to give you private lessons this year. We are going to travel into the past, you and I, and learn more about Lord Voldemort. I think you will find-"

Dumbledore's words were cut short. The old headmaster suddenly stifferend and fell to the floor.

Harry stared at Dumbledore's crumpled form in horror. "Tom, what did you _do_?" he whispered. "You didn't _kill_ him, did you?"

An invisible hand ruffled Harry's hair gently. "Kill him? Not yet, my dear. He's just immobilized for now. I couldn't stand listening to any more of his demented logic. Also, I wanted to take a closer look at his ring." Tom peeked out from under the invisibility cloak, white-blond hair disheveled. He leaned over the headmaster's rigid form. "How very curious..."

He pulled the ring from the headmaster's hand and held it up to the light. "This is _my_ ring. What is Dumbledore doing with my old family heirloom? And the stone is cracked, too..."

"Your ring?" Harry looked at the dull, black stone with the strange crack down the middle. "Is it a horcrux?"

"It _was..._" Tom ran his fingers over the dark stone. "But it is not anymore, I can sense that. Dumbledore must have destroyed it. That must have been what burned his hand..." There was a flash of anger in his grey eyes, and no one could possibly have thought that he was Draco Malfoy at that moment.

Tom frowned. "But _why_ would Dumbledore still wear the ring, _my _ring? Surely, a ruined horcrux can't have any particular significance to him? Why would he keep a cracked stone?" Tom studied the ring carefully.

"Maybe the stone itself is valuable?" suggested Harry.

Tom froze. He stared at Harry for a moment, then burst out laughing. "Of course it is! How very clever of you, Harry! Of course the stone is valuable." He slipped the ring into his pocket. "I will keep this. It is _my_ family heirloom, after all, and it may very well prove to come in useful at some point."

"Useful how?"

Tom stroked his hair softly. "Oh, you will see, Harry. It will be a surprise." He looked down at the prone form of the Hogwarts headmaster. "Now, should I kill him right away or just modify his memory for now?"

Harry shuddered. "Modify his memory? Please? He's... he's not a bad person, you know. I think he means very well."

Tom sighed and shook his head. "Could you possibly be feeling sorry for _Albus Dumbledore_? All right, have it your own way, my dear. _Obliviate!_"

A dry chuckle came from one of the portraits on the wall. Harry glanced up, startled. Most of the portraits of previous headmasters and headmistresses of Hogwarts were watching them in horror. But the portrait of Phineas Nigellus Black was regarding Tom with a wicked glint in its eyes.

"Well, well, well! I thought this was going to be another tedious semester hanging here and listening to Dumbledore's charming little speeches, but it appears that I was wrong. Now, who are _you, _young Slytherin?"

"Never mind who I am, Phineas," said Tom calmly. He pointed his wand at each portrait in turn. "_Obliviate!_"


	4. Secrets and Prophecies

**~Surrender~**

**Rating: M for slash (homoerotic relationship) in later chapters.**

**Warning: **This is a Harry Potter/Voldemort romance set during Harry's sixth year at Hogwarts. Read at your own risk.

**Author's Note: **Thank you for all the reviews and helpful comments!

...

**~Chapter 4~**

**Secrets and Prophecies**

**...**

"Will Dumbledore be all right?" Harry glanced anxiously at Tom as they meandered through the ancient Hogwarts corridors towards the Great Hall.

Tom raised an eyebrow. "Will _Dumbledore_ be all right? You Gryffindors really are the most absurd people, Harry! Save your compassion for people who deserve it, will you? Oh, I dare say Dumbledore will be perfectly all right, physically, when he regains his senses. Whether he will ever be _morally _all right is of course a different matter altogether. Personally, I doubt it very much."

Harry stared at him. "_You_ accuse Dumbledore of moral wrongdoing, Tom? That's a little rich, coming from... from the Dark Lord, isn't it?"

Tom inclined his head, flushing slightly. "I have my faults, that is true, Harry. All right, I have quite a few... But I did _not_ send you back to your aunt and uncle's house."

Harry had to smile. "No, you didn't. I appreciate that, Tom. You have been so very kind to me these past few weeks. But... but you _did_ kill my parents, and quite a few other people as well..." He swallowed.

Tom looked down at the flagged stone floor. "True. I did. I have inflicted a great deal of pain on you in the past, Harry. I... I don't suppose an apology would do much good, but for what it's worth, I _am_ sorry about your parents, my dear. And about all the pain I have caused you. I will try to make it up to you in any way I can."

Harry shook his head. "I don't think there is much you can do to make up for _that, _Tom."

There was a sudden glitter in Tom' grey eyes. "Perhaps I will think of something," he whispered. He reached out and brushed Harry's face quickly with his fingers.

They walked for a few minutes in silence. Tom seemed lost in thought, and Harry studied his face - or rather, _Draco's_ face - in secret. He suddenly wished that Tom would look like himself for a little bit, so he could see his real face. Not _Voldemort's _face, of course, but Tom's... Or perhaps there was still a touch of Tom in the bearing of the blond boy who was walking next to him, if one looked at him very carefully. There was something about the way he walked, the angle of his shoulders... Harry couldn't help but wonder if he was the only one who could see the difference in the boy who appeared to be Draco. Perhaps Snape had seen it, too?

Harry cleared his throat. "You know, Tom, there is something I've always wanted to ask you. You know Professor Snape, right?"

"The gloomy Severus." Tom nodded. "Yes, of course. I know him quite well."

"Which side is he really on? Yours or... the other one?"

Tom thought for a moment. "You know, Harry, I have never really been quite sure. He's a death eater, of course, and a spy for me, but I wouldn't put it past him to work as a spy for Dumbledore as well. He's a hard man to pin down, Severus. Sometimes I wonder if _he_ even knows which side he is on." Tom frowned slightly. "He was inexcusably rude to you before. What was that about? I will have to teach him better manners."

"Oh, he's always like that. Especially to me. I don't think he can stand the sight of me."

"Really?" Tom seemed genuinely surprised at this. "How terribly odd! You are rather charming to look at. But perhaps, after all these years, Severus is still upset that you survived and your mother didn't."

"My mother?"

"Why, yes, I do recall that Severus was quite smitten with your mother at one time. He came to me and begged me to spare her life, actually."

"He _what_?" Harry stopped and stared at Tom.

Tom flushed. "Well, I _would _have, but she refused to get out of the way... I'm... sorry..." He looked away.

"Snape was in love with my _mother?" _Harry still couldn't quite fathom this. "No, you must be wrong about that. I can't imagine Snape loving anybody, least of all my _mother."_

Tom smiled. "The idea of Snape in love does rather boggle the mind, doesn't it?"

Harry had to smile as well. "It's almost as absurd as imagining _you_ in love, Tom."

The slight flush that brushed over the pale face almost made Harry think that Tom had been right after all; Draco Malfoy _was_ a rather good-looking boy.

...

Dinner in the Great Hall had already been served by the time Harry and Tom got there. The high vaulted ceiling that arched overhead was dusted with stars tonight, and thousands of enchanted candles cast a soft golden glow over the splendid welcoming feast. Several people stared curiously at Harry and Tom as they entered together. Harry was bombarded by questions as soon as he slid into his seat next to Hermione at the Gryffindor table.

"Harry! What happened to you?"

"Is it true that you were staying with the Malfoys over the summer?"

"Did they kidnap you? Did they keep you in the dungeon?"

"Is it true that you and Draco are _dating_?"

Harry stared at Lavender Brown, who was sitting next to Parvati Patil. "No, Lavender, that is _not_ true! Draco and I have become friends these past weeks, that's all."

"Oh." Was it his imagination, or did both Lavender and Parvati look slightly disappointed?

"_Dating_?" Ron choked on his chicken. "Don't be ridiculous, Lavender, they are both _boys_!"

Hermione rolled her eyes ever so slightly. She leaned closer and whispered in Harry's ear: "Never mind Ron, Harry. I think it's really adorable, the way Draco looks at you. He's completely smitten with you, isn't he?"

Her glance trailed over to the Slytherin table, where Tom was talking to Zabini. Tom must have sensed that he was being watched, for he looked up, met Harry's glance and smiled slightly.

Harry flushed. "Oh, it's not what you think, Hermione. He's not in _love _with me, he's just..."

"Just what?" Hermione looked amused.

"Well..." Harry ran his hand through his hair. He couldn't very well say: _He just wants to protect me for all eternity because he is Voldemort and I am a part of his soul, _so he settled for: "He's feeling a little protective because he knows my relatives didn't treat me well. That's all..."

"Mhm. I see." Hermione was still smiling. "And how do you fell about him, Harry?"

"Well..." Harry picked at his food, not sure how to answer. "I... I sort of like that he looks after me. It makes me feel safe."

He glanced up at the staff table, where Dumbledore was sitting with the other teachers. The headmaster was deeply engaged in a conversation with McGonagall, and the two of them kept looking furtively over at Tom. Harry noticed that Snape's black gaze was lingering on Tom as well. Tom must have felt it, for he glanced up and gave Snape a cheerful little wave. Snape stared at him for a moment, then looked away quickly.

As the meal was drawing to a close, Dumbledore rose to his feet. A hush fell over the Great Hall, and the students turned expectantly to the headmaster. Dumbledore spread his hands out wide in a welcoming gesture and peered at the students over the half-moon spectacles that perched on his long nose.

Several gasps were heard around the room. "_Merlin! _What happened to his _hand-?"_

Hermione's eyes widened as she saw caught sight of the headmaster's disfigured hand. "What on earth could have caused _that? _I can't imagine what sort of terrible curse would leave his hand withered like that. Did he encounter You-Know-Who over the summer?"

"No," said Harry quietly, "I'm pretty sure he didn't."

"I almost wish he had," said Ron, gazing at the withered hand in fascination. "Dumbledore's a really powerful wizard, Harry. Everyone knows that Dumbledore is the only wizard You-Know-Who was ever afraid of."

Harry glanced up at the familiar face of the old headmaster. "How do you know that, Ron? I've heard it mentioned before, too, but I can't help but wonder how people can know anything at all about Voldemort's fears. I don't think the Dark Lord is the sort of person who shares his fears with anyone."

Ron looked confused. "Well, it's... common knowledge, Harry."

"Another year full of magical education awaits you," said Dumbledore genially, his blue eyes twinkling. He added a few remarks about Quidditch teams and a new ban on any items from Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. Then he turned to the staff table. "As you may be aware, we are pleased to welcome a new member of staff this year." Professor Slughorn stood up and beamed at the students.

"A new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher again!" whispered Dean Thomas. "I wonder what will happen to _him _at the end of the year."

"Perhaps he will die-?" suggested Seamus hopefully.

"Professor Slughorn," continued Dumbledore calmly, ignoring the buzzing of voices, "has kindly agreed to resume his former position as potions master."

A whisper rippled through the Great Hall.

"_What_? Did he say_ potions master? _"

"But what about Snape-? Did he die or something?"

"Don't be silly, Seamus, he's right _there_!"

"Meanwhile," continued Dumbledore with a smile, "Professor Snape has agreed to take over the position of Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts."

This announcement was followed by a moment's stunned silence. Then everyone began talking at once.

Harry glanced up at Snape, who was sitting pale and dark-clad at the staff table, his expression unreadable.

Ron leaned over and whispered to Harry: "Well, I suppose that's a good thing."

Harry stared at him. He failed to see how anyone could consider Snape teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts a good thing.

Ron grinned. "Don't you see, Harry? It means that Snape will leave Hogwarts after this year, one way or another. _All _Defense Against the Dark Arts Professors do."

"Yes. Yes, that's right..."

Snape's black eyes turned to Harry. Harry flushed as he felt the potions master study his face intently. _Snape will leave Hogwarts at the end of this year, one way or another... I wonder if his leaving will have anything to do with me. Or with Tom..._

...

As the students and teachers were pouring out of the Great Hall, Harry kept looking for Tom.

Voices buzzed all around him, and somewhere nearby, Harry heard Slughorn's pompous drawl: "Fancy seeing you after all these years, Severus! I _had _heard that you had become a potions master yourself. Not surprising, really; you had quite a knack for potions, I recall, even if you were never quite as good as Lily-"

Harry smiled to himself.

"Speaking of Lily," continued Slughorn's voice, "I just met Harry Potter on the train."

Snape muttered something Harry couldn't quite catch, but he was fairly sure it was not complimentary.

"A charming boy," gushed Slughorn, "absolutely charming! We got along quite well, Harry and I. It is really quite remarkable how much he looks like his mother, isn't it, Severus?"

"He doesn't look like his mother... He looks like his _father_." Snape's voice had a strange half-strangled sound to it.

Slughorn chuckled. "Oh, nonsense, Severus! Harry's hair is a bit like his father's, perhaps, but you can't tell me that you haven't noticed that he has Lily's eyes..."

"I... had _not_ noticed that, no." It sounded as if Snape was gritting his teeth.

The two teachers disappeared in the crowd.

"Right behind you, Harry!" Tom's voice breathed in his ear. "I've got your invisibility cloak on so I'll be able to follow you up the stairs and hear what the Gryffindor password is. I'll come and see you tonight when everyone else is sleeping, all right?"

"All right," whispered Harry.

...

Harry sat in his bed and waited as the other Gryffindor boys dropped off to sleep, one by one. The silver light of the full moon streamed in through the tall arched windows of the dormitory, painting the room in soft shadowy hues. Even Ron's normally vivid read hair glimmered silvery grey in the moonlight.

Something rustled softly by the door, and Tom peeked out from under the cloak. Harry was relieved to see the familiar dark curls; he had had enough of the false Draco for one day. Tom pointed his wand at each of the sleeping boys in turn and muttered a few words in a language Harry did not recognize.

"There! They will all sleep soundly until morning." Tom flopped down on Harry's bed with a sigh. "_Finally!_ I have waited all day to be alone with you."

The moonlight cast a silver sheen over Tom's dark hair, and Harry suddenly felt a curious need to touch it.

Tom smiled up at him. "What? You are looking at me so strangely, Harry."

Harry reached out and stroked a dark curl out of Tom's eyes. "It's just... It's just that it's so hard to believe that you are _here,_ with me, and that we are friends now."

"Yes, it's a rather odd friendship, isn't it?" whispered Tom. His silver eyes glittered. "The Dark Lord and the Boy Who Lived... Friends. Bound together by our shared soul."

Harry swallowed. "But what about... what about the prophecy, Tom? The one about the two of us? It wasn't meant to be like this, was it?"

Tom lay still for a moment, staring into the darkness. Then he said softly: "Well, we don't know how that prophecy ended, do we Harry? We only know the first part: _The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches ... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies ... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not_ ... Everyone seems to think that the prophecy is about one of us killing the other, but what if it isn't? It's about you and me, yes: You were born at the end of the seventh month, to parents who thrice defied me, and I..." His hand brushed lightly over Harry's scar. "I marked you as my equal..."

Harry reached out for Tom's hand and squeezed it. "But _a power the Dark Lord knows not_? The power to vanquish you? I have no such power, Tom."

"Don't you?" Tom pressed his lips lightly to Harry's hand. "I'm not so certain about that, my dear. Perhaps you have vanquished me already. You made the Dark Lord come back to Hogwarts, after all."

Harry laughed. "Where you will learn all about the Dark Arts from Snape."

"I can't wait."

"But what about the rest of the prophecy, Tom? I.. I actually know how the prophecy ended, you see..."

"Do you?" Tom sat up quickly. "How did it end, Harry? Tell me."

Harry hesitated. "It said... Oh, never mind what it said, Tom."

"Tell me. I want to know." There was a slight tremor in Tom's voice.

Harry swallowed. He glanced at Tom's face, pale and impossibly beautiful in the moonlight. His mouth felt dry. "It said that.. that _either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives_."

Tom was silent for so long that Harry began to wonder if he was ever going to speak. His fingers found Tom's face in the half-light and stroked his face hesitatingly. "Tom-?"

"Are you sure you heard the words of the prophecy right, Harry? Could you have misheard them, somehow?" Tom's voice was a whisper.

Harry shook his head. "Oh, I didn't hear the whole prophecy myself, Tom. It shattered at the ministry before I could hear it all. Dumbledore was the one who told me how the prophecy ended, later on. _He_ was the one Trelawney spoke to, you see, back when the prophecy was first made."

"_Dumbledore?_" Tom breathed the name softly into the night. "Dumbledore was the only one who heard the end of the prophecy? But then... What if he is not telling the truth, Harry? What if he changed the ending somehow? Yes, of course he must have changed it. It _can't_ end like that."

"You think Dumbledore would lie-?" Harry stared at Tom.

"Of course he would. For the _greater good, _of course." Tom put his arms behind his head and stared up at the ceiling. "There must be a way to find out." He pondered for a moment. "Hm, I wonder if my old friend Severus has some veritaserum about?"

Harry had to laugh. "Snape? Of course he does. He's always threatening to slip some into my pumpkin juice by mistake whenever he thinks I'm lying."

"Well, then!" Tom's eyes glittered. "Let's find out how the prophecy _really_ ended, shall we?"

Harry shook his head slowly. "How are you going to slip veritaserum into Dumbledore's drink, Tom? All the teachers are always served from the same large beaker of pumpkin juice and the same decanter of wine at meals. You can't possibly put veritaserum in one person's drink without everyone getting some."

A slow grin spread over Tom's face. "So _all_ the Hogwarts professors would be speaking nothing but the truth for an entire day? Well, that should prove amusing, shouldn't it, Harry? We may get more of an education that we bargained for! Now, I wonder if Severus is still in his office at this hour..."

"I'll check." Harry reached under his bed and rummaged in his trunk.

Tom leaned over the edge of the bed. "Got any more legendary artifacts in there, my dear? I'm still looking for that elder wand."

Harry laughed. "No, I've just got my regular holly wand in here. Wait, I thought you said you were looking for a stone of some sort too? Oh, here's the map."

He unfolded the Marauders' map on the bed, and they both bent over it.

Tom's eyes widened. "What in Merlin's name is this?"

"A magical map of Hogwarts. It shows where everyone is. Look, that's us..." Harry pointed to Gryffindor Tower, and to the two little dots marked "Harry Potter" and "Voldemort".

"Better not let anyone else see this map, Harry," whispered Tom.

"Don't worry. I won't." Harry pointed at the teachers' offices. "Look, Dumbledore is still in his office, pacing back and forth. But Snape is not in his study; he must have gone to bed. No, _there_ he is, walking around on the Hogwarts grounds by himself. He seems terribly restless, doesn't he? Odd time for a walk - it's past midnight. The coast is clear, Tom - let's go and get that veritaserum! The cloak will cover us both." He reached for Tom's hand, and they walked out of the dormitory together, invisible in the moonlight.


	5. Veritaserum

**~Surrender~**

**Rating: M for slash (homoerotic relationship) in later chapters.**

**Warning: **This is a Harry Potter/Voldemort romance set during Harry's sixth year at Hogwarts. Read at your own risk.

...

**~Chapter 5~**

Tom and Harry collapsed, laughing and breathless, onto Harry's bed.

"Got the veritaserum! Three whole vials of it!"

"Did you see Severus' face when he came back from his midnight stroll and found his office door open? He was livid, wasn't he? He walked right past us, too! This invisibility cloak of yours is really rather marvelous, my dear. The caretaker didn't see us when we bumped into him on the stairs afterwards either."

"What sort of spell was that you used on Mrs. Norris, Tom? I thought Filch was about to faint when you made her _bark._"

Tom's eyes glittered. "That _was_ rather amusing, wasn't it?" He stretched out on Harry's bed and regarded the vials of veritaserum with a look of great satisfaction. "I'll make sure that the truth potion is put to good use in the morning. Dumbledore will have no choice but to tell us how that prophecy _really_ ended. But you should get some sleep now, my dear; it's getting quite late."

Harry glanced curiously at Tom, who seemed to have settled himself rather comfortably among Harry's red and gold sheets. "Are you going to stay here with me all night, then?"

"Well, of course!" Tom yawned. "I said I'd keep an eye on you, didn't I? I want to make sure that you a perfectly safe at all times."

"But the other Slytherin students will wonder where you are."

"No, they won't. They will sleep until I'm good and ready for them to wake up. You will see. I _am _rather good at magic, you know." Tom wrapped his arms around Harry and stroked his hair gently.

"All right," muttered Harry, suddenly sleepy. The warmth from Tom's limbs felt strangely comforting. He slid an arm around Tom's back. "This feels a little odd, Tom... I've never slept in anyone's arms before."

Tom ruffled his hair softly. "Neither have I, Harry."

Harry laughed. "Yeah. Right. Something tells me that you are quite experienced, Tom."

"Experienced?" Tom sounded amused. "Oh, at sex, yes. But I never let anyone share my bed afterwards. I sleep alone. Well, I _used_ to sleep alone. This will be a new experience for both of us. Go to sleep now, my dear. I will be right here with you."

...

Harry kept glancing up at the teachers' table at breakfast, but everything appeared completely normal. Had Tom really managed to slip the veritaserum into the morning tea at the high table?

The older students lingered over their breakfast a little longer than the younger ones, waiting for McGonagall to come around and distribute their more complicated schedules. Lavender Brown kept gazing at Ron and twirling her long, blonde hair around her fingers, emitting little giggly noises. Ron seemed to notice, and he flushed with pleasure. Hermione glared coldly at Lavender, but this only seemed to make Lavender giggle harder.

McGonagall descended on them, stacks of schedules in hand. "Now, Miss Granger, you have been cleared to continue with all the classes you applied for. Your O.W.L.s were outstanding, as expected. You can go ahead and proceed to Ancient Runes immediately."

Hermione nodded and took off eagerly, robes flying behind her.

McGonagall glanced after her with a smile. "She is an excellent student, Miss Granger! _Very _studious and ambitious. She almost reminds me of _me_ when I was a girl. Except that _I _knew how to use a comb..." A baffled expression passed over McGonagall's plain, kind face. "Oh, dear. Did I just _say _that?" She blinked in momentary confusion.

"Let's see now... Mr. Longbottom. You applied for the N.E.W.T. level transfiguration class, did you not? That is not going to be possible with an "Acceptable" grade, I'm afraid." McGonagall sighed and peered at Neville over her glasses. "And quite frankly, I only gave you an "Acceptable" grade out of the kindness of my heart, Longbottom. I'm afraid the only way _you_ would ever pass Transfiguration at the N.E.W.T. level is by taking a quill and "transfiguring" the "T" grade you will no doubt be awarded into an "A" by adding a few more pen strokes to my grade book when my back is turned." Her eyes widened. "Godric's beard! Did I just say that out loud? I'm... I'm _so_ sorry. Why don't you go ahead and take Charms instead, dear? I think you will do a great deal better in that class."

"My... my grandmother thinks Charms is a "soft" option..." whispered Neville.

McGonagall snorted. "Just because Augusta couldn't pass Charms to save her life, doesn't mean that you can't, boy. You may not be all that bright, but I swear you _are_ smarter than your grandmother."

Lavender giggled, and Ron beamed at her.

McGonagall looked sternly at Ron. "Oh, come now, Mr. Weasley! Why are you looking at Miss Brown like that? You _cannot_ be attracted to that airhead. Don't you see that the brilliant Miss Granger appears to have a soft spot for you, at least for now? Don't waste this opportunity, you foolish boy!" She shook her head a little. "I should know what I'm talking about; I kept spurning the kind and honest John Lupin's advances back in my sixth year, just because I had a ridiculous fixation on the devastatingly handsome Tom Riddle. Why are you smiling, Mr. Potter? This is _not _funny! Merlin, what an idiot I was! John, of course, went on to marry a very sweet Muggle girl, and he made her very happy indeed. That could have been me, if only I had had more sense..."

"You had a crush on-? No way!" Ron gazed up at McGonagall in horror. "_Hermione!_ Oh, drat it, where did she go? I need someone to Obliviate that image of McGonagall and You-Know-Who out of my head, quickly, before my brain explodes."

McGonagall rounded on Harry. "Now, why in heaven's name didn't you sign up for Potions, Mr. Potter? I thought it was your ambition to become an Auror."

Harry flushed. "It _was_. But I just saw my marks, and I didn't get the "Outstanding" grade I need to continue with Potions."

McGonagall rolled her eyes. "Of course you didn't, Mr. Potter. Professor Snape would rather marry a two-headed one-eyed mountain troll than award you an "O" in anything. He hates you for looking like your charming idiot father and even more for reminding him of your mother, who never loved him back."

Ron staggered up from the table, his face pale. "I... I think I need to leave now. Surely, one of the Ravenclaw students must know how to Obliviate people... Hey, Anthony, wait up!"

"And speaking of people with unhealthy obsessions with your beautiful mother, Harry" continued McGonagall briskly, "I'm sure Professor Slughorn will be delighted to let you take Potions. In fact, I'm pretty sure he's drooling at the thought of adding The Boy Who Lived to his collection of Famous People I Have Taught, the pompous ass, so you can go right ahead and add Potions to your schedule. You can tell Mr. Weasley that he can join you there as well. It shouldn't be too bad for _him_; Professor Slughorn only fawns over the rich, the famous, and the good-looking, so poor Mr. Weasley is unlikely to be a target."

"Professor?" Parvati Patil was beginning to look worried. "Are you feeling all right? You don't seem quite yourself this morning. Do you need to go the hospital wing?"

"The hospital wing? Don't be ridiculous." McGonagall snorted. "I'm fit as a fiddle. Now, I see that _you_ have signed up for Divination, Miss Patil. There will be two Divination teachers this year. Some students will take Divination with a handsome centaur who can actually predict the future, and some students will take the class from a deranged floozy with a drinking problem. Apparently, Dumbledore must have confused Sybill seeing double on most days with Second Sight. Let's see which one you get... Ah, here we go. It's the bat with double vision for you, I'm afraid, Miss Patil." McGonagall plonked a schedule down in front of Parvati, who was looking distinctly alarmed now. "Oh, and Mr. Potter, you are captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, so try to put together a good team, will you? I want Gryffindor to win the cup this year, and I want to rub Snape's long nose in it. And the headmaster wants to see you in his office this evening, Mr. Potter. Well, that should be all, I think. Have a pleasant day, everyone."

...

Tom was waiting for Harry outside Snape's Defense Against the Dark Arts class. _Doing all right, my dear?_ came his voice in Harry's mind.

_Very well, thank you, _whispered Harry's mind back. _Did you know that Minerva McGonagall had a crush on you back in her sixth year? _

Tom closed his eyes for a moment. _Oh, dear. Perhaps I should have used only one of the vials, not all three. There are some truths one could live without. _

The classroom door opened, and Snape stepped out into the corridor. He caught sight of Harry and Tom and froze for an instant, his inscrutable black eyes lingering on their faces.

"Inside," he said softly.

The students scrambled to their seats. Snape seemed to have embraced decorating, now that the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom was finally his. The inkwells appeared to be made of twisted bones, and the ink had a sinister crimson tint to it. Dark posters showing gruesome torture scenes decorated the walls, and the heavy velvet drapes in front of the windows were blacker than Snape's hair. Tom muttered something under his breath, and a moment later, several of the victims of the Spanish Inquisition portrayed in the pictures seemed to have acquired half-moon spectacles, and a few began to grow beards.

Snape surveyed the class with his cold, black gaze. "Welcome to Defense Against the Dark Arts. You have had five teachers in this subject so far, I believe: The Dark Lord himself, an incompetent fraud, a werewolf, a death eater in league with the Dark Forces, and a giggling sadist in a league well beyond the Dark Forces. Needless to say, your education in this subject leaves a little to be desired."

He paused for a moment, then muttered to himself: "From which any reasonable person would conclude that it is a very,_ very_ bad idea to let a 116 year old man make hiring decisions all by himself. But for some reason, the rest of Dumbledore's starry-eyed staff refuses to see things that way."

A confused murmur ran through the class. Snape raised his voice. "Given this appalling lack of proper instruction, I am surprised - no, _impressed, _dammit- that so many of you scraped a passing grade in this subject. I cannot imagine where you all learned so much about Defense Against the Dark Arts, especially since you were taught by Professor Umbridge last year, who wouldn't recognize the Dark Lord if he were sitting right in front of her."

"Well, I'm glad we've got _you_ teaching us this year, then, sir," put in Tom innocently. He smiled up at Snape.

Snape glanced suspiciously at him. "Thank you, Mr. Malfoy." He frowned suddenly. "That's odd... Why is it that I can no longer read your thoughts, Mr. Malfoy? Have you been practicing occlumency over the summer? I wouldn't have thought someone of your normally paltry intellect capable of such a thing. Not that I'm complaining, mind you; it is rather a relief not to risk accidentally picking up on your ridiculous fantasies about certain of your classmates in the middle of my class. I do wish the rest of you would practice occlumency as well, but I suppose that is too much to hope for. I cannot help sensing your perverted daydreams when you are supposed to be paying attention in class. Being a legilimens is really more of a curse than a blessing when one is teaching teenagers. I must admit that some of your fantasies are mildly entertaining and good for a laugh, but several of them are rather disturbing. My detentions are not _nearly_ as interesting as some of you seem to imagine. I am also growing terribly weary of centaur fantasies - that goes for you, Miss Patil, Miss Brown, Miss Parkinson, _and _Mr. Goyle. As for you, Mr. Longbottom, _nobody_ should do that with a plant. And Mr. Weasley... Oh, that's just _preposterous! Obliviate!_"

A slow grin spread over Ron's face. "Thank you, sir. I feel a lot better now. Wait - what happened?"

"And as for _you_, Mr. Potter..." Snape turned to Harry, and Harry could feel Snape's mind boring into his own. Harry tried desperately to keep his thoughts blank, but a sudden image flickered unbidden into his mind. He saw a deserted graveyard at twilight, the crumbling stones wreathed in a fine mist. A dark-cloaked figure emerged slowly from the fog, face hidden under a black hood.

"What is this?" Snape looked uncertainly at Harry. "That's... that's a rather strange thought, Mr. Potter-"

The dark figure came closer now. It lifted a long, white hand and brushed the hood away to reveal a pale monstrous face with scarlet eyes. _Voldemort? _"_Severus..._." The Dark Lord's voice sounded like a serpent's hiss, echoing strangely among the gravestones. The scarlet eyes narrowed. "Get out of Harry's mind, or I will punish you severely. His thoughts belong to me, and me alone..."

Snape staggered backwards, his face even paler than usual. For a moment, Harry could have sworn that there was a flicker of fear in his eyes.

Then Snape pulled himself together, and reached for the textbook with a trembling hand. "It's... It is time to turn to the lesson of the day. The lesson... Ah, yes. Who can tell me the advantages of a non-verbal spell?"

Hermione's hand flew up. Snape sighed. "Of course _you_ know, Miss Granger; you probably know this curriculum better than I do. Hell, you probably know more than the Dark Lord himself."

_She does not!_ came an indignant whisper in Harry's mind. _At least I think she doesn't. _

Hermione gazed up at Snape in surprise, flushing at the unexpected compliment. "A non-verbal spell will give you a split-second advantage over your opponent, sir," she whispered. "And also..."

The class gasped as all the students' inkwells burst into scarlet flames simultaneously.

"Ag... Aguamenti..." whispered Snape and pointed his wand at each inkwell in turn. He glanced frantically around the classroom. "Now, who did _that_?"

The students glanced at each other in confusion. No one answered.

Then Hermione said softly, her voice shaking a little: "Another advantage to non-verbal spells, sir, is that it is impossible to determine who cast them."

...

Slughorn's tastes in decorating were clearly superior to Snape's; the usually gloomy dungeon was brightly lit, and the dark mahogany tables were polished and gleaming. Several cauldrons were already simmering over low fires, and some of the scents wafting from the bubbling potions were quite entrancing. Harry, Tom, Ron and Hermione took a table together. A sweet fragrance from a gold cauldron nearby made them all turn their heads in wonder.

"Oh," said Hermione softly and breathed in the scent of the potion. "That smells like... like fresh grass and toothpaste and..." She flushed.

Ron sniffed it too. "Grass? No, I don't think so. It smells like your hair, Hermione."

"Like... like _my_ hair?" Hermione looked thoughtfully at Ron. "Really?"

Harry drew a deep breath. "No, it smells like lilacs and rain and warm fires."

_Yes, it does, _whispered Tom's voice in his mind. _But most of all, it smells like you... _

"Scales out, everyone," announced Slughorn. "And don't forget your potions kits and your books. Oh, you don't have your books yet, Mr. Potter? Not to worry, my dear boy. There are some old books right here, in the corner cupboard. Oh, you need one, too, Mr.-?"

"Weasley," muttered Ron, but Slughorn didn't seem to be listening.

Slughorn handed them two tattered old books and proceeded with the instructions. Tom picked up Harry's potions book with a frown. _I'll get you a new copy right away, _he whispered in Harry's mind. _You can use mine for today if you want; Lucius and Narcissa kindly bought me a new one. The one Slughorn gave you has writing all over it. What's this? "This Book is the Property of the Half-Blood Prince"... Oh, I really hate it when people write in their books."_

Harry leaned over and peered at the book. "The Half-Blood Prince?" he whispered. "Wonder who that was?"

Tom shrugged. "Severus, probably," he whispered back. "His mother's maiden name was "Prince". I remember her from my own schooldays. A strange, sullen sort of girl. Much like Severus himself, coming to think of it."

"Oh, _excellent! Excellent!" _Slughorn beamed at Hermione, who had identified the contents of the cauldrons placed around the classroom.

"Sir, you haven't told us what's in the last cauldron." Ernie Macmillan indicated a small black cauldron on Slughorn's desk.

"Ah!" Slughorn smiled at Ernie. "I was hoping someone would ask about that. _This_ is a most curious little potion called Felix Felicis."

"Liquid luck?" breathed Hermione.

Slughorn nodded. "Precisely! You are clearly as intelligent as you are attractive, my dear. Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to say... Never mind. Taken sparingly, this potion will bring you good luck in all your endeavors. You will find that all your dreams will come true, for one perfect day..."

"Have you ever taken it, sir?" asked Michael Corner breathlessly.

Slughorn smiled a little. "Oh, yes, I have. Once when I was twenty-four, and once when I was fifty-seven. Two perfect days. Two days to remember for the rest of my life..."

The class gazed at him, mesmerized.

Tom cleared his throat. "So, what exactly happened on those two days, sir?"

"What _happened-_?" Slughorn looked somewhat taken aback. For a moment, he hesitated. But then he began to speak, softly: "I _really_ shouldn't be telling you about any of this, Mr. Malfoy. But since you ask..."


	6. Two Perfect Days

**~Surrender~**

**Rating: M for slash (homoerotic relationship) in later chapters.**

**Warning: **This is a Harry Potter/Voldemort romance set during Harry's sixth year at Hogwarts. Read at your own risk.

**Author's Note: **Sorry about the long wait - this was a hard chapter to write! I'm still not quite happy with it, but I think it's time to move on with the story.

...

**~Chapter 6~**

**...**

"Two perfect days..." Slughorn gazed dreamily into the distance. "I am growing old, and much of life has passed me by. I have stood in the shadows and watched as others have loved, fought, dreamt, and died. But twice in my life, I have truly _lived, _for two whole glorious days..." His voice drifted off, and he appeared to hesitate for a moment. He seemed almost baffled as he looked out over the class, as if he were at a loss to understand why all eyes were on him.

Almost shyly, he continued: "The first was a bitterly cold winter day over fifty years ago. It was New Year's Eve 1943..."

Harry felt Tom stirring uneasily by his side. _That? _whispered his voice in Harry's mind. _That was one of Slughorn's perfect days? _

"It's all right, Professor" said Tom quickly. "I'm so sorry - I had no business asking you a question of such a personal nature. Please do not fell compelled to answer. Let's just move on with today's lesson, sir."

"Move on?" Slughorn looked startled. "No, no," he said softly. "You asked me a question, Mr. Malfoy, and I feel that I should answer it. I remember it all with such remarkable clarity, as if it were yesterday."

"Sir, we don't need you to tell us-" said Tom weakly.

"Please, sir! We'd love to hear your story."

"_Harry_!" Tom stared at him, aghast.

"Oh, of course I will tell you, Harry," said Slughorn mildly. "I have never told anyone about that day. But I can sense that it may be time to tell. Perhaps _you, _of all people, need to hear this story, Harry. It... it concerns You-Know-Who, you see. Yes, the Dark Lord himself."

"You knew the Dark Lord personally?" Hermione's voice was a whisper.

"I don't think you should tell us about this, sir." Blaise Zabini was looking distinctly worried now. Tom shot him a grateful look, but Slughorn did not heed him at all.

"Yes, I knew the Dark Lord," said Slughorn softly. "Perhaps you did not know that he was once a student here at Hogwarts, just like you. His name was Tom Riddle, and he was the most beautiful young man I had ever seen. He was a tremendously gifted student, much admired by both students and teachers, although he always kept himself apart from others. He was always rather aloof, and I never saw him laugh, except for that one day. December 31, 1943 was the day when Tom Riddle came of age, his seventeenth birthday-"

Tom reached for his wand, but Harry poked him sharply in the side. "Don't you dare, Tom. I _want_ to hear this!" he hissed under his breath.

"No, you don't... It's really not all that interesting." Tom frowned, but he put his wand away.

Slughorn stared dreamily into the distance. "You may ask yourselves how I came to spend New Year's Eve with Tom Riddle. I was a young teacher at the time, and Tom Riddle was one of my favorite students. Normally, the students would go home for Christmas. But Tom Riddle was an orphan, you see. During the summers, he would always return to the dreary Muggle orphanage where he grew up, but during the Christmas holidays, he always asked for the headmaster's permission to stay here at school. A few of us teachers would stay behind and have Christmas dinner with the dozen or so students whose parents were abroad. We did not usually make any plans for New Year's Eve, however. But I happened to know that this particular New Year's Eve was also Tom Riddle's seventeenth birthday."

Slughorn swallowed, and a slight flush crept over his cheeks. "I can't tell you precisely what it was that made me drink the _Felix Felicis _potion on that particular day. Perhaps I felt some sort of forbidden attraction to Tom Riddle in my heart; perhaps there was a part of me that hoped that something might happen between us that day..."

Tom put his head down on his desk and groaned softly.

"Tom was ever so surprised," said Slughorn in a low voice, "when I invited him to come up to London with me for the day, to celebrate his birthday. But he agreed willingly. A seventeenth birthday is, after all, the most important milestone in a young wizard's life, and I dare say that he had dreaded spending the day alone. Tom laughed when I handed him a suit of fashionable Muggle clothes, and we both smiled as we looked at ourselves in the mirror afterwards. Muggle men's suits were rather elegant back then, you see, and I thought we both looked rather dashing in our grey wool suits, dark patent leather shoes and soft felt hats. "I've never seen Muggles in clothes like this," complained Tom, but I told him that we were going to very different parts of London from those he had ever seen. We would dine in elegant restaurants, and we would see the latest plays. At least, that is how I had planned it. I hadn't had a chance to go and see a Muggle play for years, and I was quite looking forward to it."

Slughorn sighed. "Unfortunately, I hadn't quite kept up with the events of the Muggle World, and it turned out that the theaters were closed. It was during the war years, you see, and Muggle London had become bleak and somber. The worst of the air raids were over, but all the theaters were still closed, and food was doled out in rations. Well, _almost _all the theaters were closed. By a stroke of good luck, it turned out that there was a single one that was still open."

Slughorn smiled a little at the memory. "The Windmill Theatre, it was called. The tickets were all sold out, of course, but a little magic can work wonders. It was... a _different _sort of theater, you might say. Oh, nothing vulgar; it was all very tastefully done, rather artful. But oh, how we both blushed when the lovely young ladies, dressed in nothing but transparent veils, entered the stage... We sat in the very front row, and after the show, one of the young ladies came up to us and chatted for a while. When she learned that it was Tom's birthday, she insisted on kissing him. It was his first kiss; that was easy to see, but I think he enjoyed it quite a bit. We laughed about it afterwards, of course, and Tom promised never to tell anyone that his professor had taken him to see such a _very_ unsuitable show for his seventeenth birthday."

Scattered laughter was heard around the classroom.

"We had dinner at a charming little restaurant afterwards," continued Slughorn, "a French place that had just opened in Covent Garden. _Mon Plaisir, _it was called. _My pleasure... _It was run by two fabulous French wizards who had managed to confound every government official who had come to check on their import permissions and food rations. Oh, Merlin, the foods they conjured up for us! Tom paled at the sight of the _escargots - _yes, snails _are_ edible, Mr. Weasley- but I managed to coax him into trying a bite. Tom looked doubtfully at the little black crescents, served in their shells. The flavor is surprisingly delicate; you can taste the garlic and the butter and the parsley, of course, but the escargots themselves taste like nothing else on earth. There is a slight hint of mushrooms and sea and salt and musk, and something else, something quite indescribable... Oh, the joy of watching Tom's face as he tasted the exquisite delicacy for the first time! He was pleasantly surprised by the flavor, as I knew he would be. _I _was the one who introduced him to all sorts of things that night; things he never dreamed existed: Delicate spring-green sorrel soup, flaky white lobster, bubbly champagne... The champagne went to his head that evening, and to mine as well. We forgot that we were master and student; we were two friends who savored the sensual pleasures of a meal together. And afterwards, we walked through the dark, deserted streets together. The snow was falling, and the snowflakes clung to Tom's dark curls. I looked at his flushing, handsome face, and I listened to his laughter, and somehow, I felt happier than I had ever felt in my life before."

Slughorn smiled. "For a moment, I wondered if I should kiss him. But then a rather stern-looking Muggle policeman approached us; he had noticed us laughing in the cold, deserted streets and had correctly surmised that we were rather drunk. He asked to see our identification, and he frowned when we merely laughed at him. But we were two rather young and very drunk wizards with excellent spell-casting skills, so before long we had the poor policeman singing drinking songs with us in the darkened London street. He turned out to be Irish, and he had a rather lovely baritone and an extensive repertoire of bawdy songs."

Slughorn chuckled slightly. "But in the end, we got cold, so we left the policeman there in the street, still singing to the bleak landscape of wartime London, while we apparated back to Hogsmeade. We were still laughing about out adventures, Tom and I, as we walked back to school. The stars were out, and the faint starlight fell over his dark curls and the white snow, and the laughter stuck in my chest. When we reached the school gates, Tom turned to me and shook my hand. "Thank you, Professor. This was the best evening of my life." There were so many things I wanted to say. I wanted to tell him that he was beautiful. I wanted to ask him to come up to my rooms with me that night. But in the end, I said nothing. Perhaps I knew, in my heart, that all the things I wanted to say would have ruined everything. So I just watched him as he walked off to his dormitory, his steps a little unsteady after all the champagne. He turned around and smiled at me, and I think I will remember that smile for the rest of my life..."

The room was completely silent for a moment. Then Hermione said softly: "That was a rather nice memory, sir."

Slughorn stood still for a moment, staring into the distance, his eyes unseeing. "Yes... Yes, it is a lovely memory..."

"What about the _other_ day, then, sir?" Lavender sounded rather curious.

"The other day?" For a moment, Slughorn's eyes seemed strangely moist. Then he said softly: "The second day... That was the day of my first kiss... Yes, at fifty-seven years of age! Oh, it must seem absurd to you young people that I had never... But I was never particularly charming or handsome or clever, you see, and no one had really noticed me in that way. And there had never been anyone I had wanted to kiss, except for Tom, and _that_ I had been too much of a gentleman to do. Or too much of a coward - I don't know which..."

He sank down in the chair behind his desk. "But then, one beautiful day in spring, many years later, the unthinkable happened: Someone kissed _me!_" His voice was unsteady. "She was... Oh, she was the most enchanting young lady. She was one of my students, and she was better at potions than anyone I had ever met..."

"What?" Harry sat up straight. "No, you can't mean... Sir, you don't have to tell us-"

"She was so terribly pretty," whispered Slughorn, "with her flaming red hair and her bright green eyes. She had a boyfriend, of course, one of the most popular Quidditch players in her year. But one day - the day when I had consumed my second vial of _Felix Felicis _out of boredom, in fact - I found her in a classroom, crying her eyes out. Apparently, she had discovered her boyfriend kissing a pretty barmaid over in Hogsmeade, and they had had a terrible fight about it. She was so upset, poor dear! I helped her dry her tears, of course, and she told me everything that had happened. Her boyfriend had assured her that the kiss meant nothing, but she had a difficult time believing that. "How can a kiss mean nothing?" she sobbed against my shoulder. "Surely, kisses always mean something." Then she looked up at me and said: "You are a man, Professor. Did you ever kiss someone that meant nothing to you?" I flushed then. "My dear girl," I protested, "I am hardly the right person to ask..." But she insisted; she was certain that a man of my age must be able to tell her more about the secrets of the male mind...

In the end, I finally told her the truth: "My dear, I am the last person you should ask. You see, I have never kissed anyone." She glanced up at me, startled. "Not anyone?" she whispered. "_Ever_?" "Not anyone ever," I said softly. "I am... one of nature's bachelor's, you see. These things... kisses... they are not for everyone, you see."

Her green eyes glittered then. "That's not right," she said in a rather determined voice. "_Nobody_ should go through life unkissed. And especially not you, professor. You are such a sweet and kind man..." And then... and then she _kissed me..._" Slughorn closed his eyes. "Her kiss was so sudden and sweet and innocent that I almost wept." She flushed a little afterwards, of course, but then she said: "There! You have been kissed." I did not know what to say; I just stood there, thunderstruck. Then she smiled, stroked my cheek gently, and walked off. Two days later, she made up with her boyfriend, and they even married a few years later. She kissed me out of kindness, of course, but that kiss meant more than anything in the world to me..."

...

"Do you still think that truth serum was a good idea?" whispered Harry to Tom as they stepped out into the corridor after class. Tom laughed and squeezed his hand. "Well, if the price for learning how the prophecy about us really ended is knowing that Horace still wishes he had kissed me all those years ago, I suppose it's worth it."

"But my mother _kissed-_"

"Just try not to think about it, Harry. Lend me your invisibility cloak, will you? It's time to pay Professor Dumbledore another visit."

...

"Harry! There you are!" Dumbledore greeted Harry with a warm smile. "Are you ready to learn more about the past, my boy? Today, I want us to explore one particular memory, a memory connected with Voldemort's past..."

"Why, Professor?" Harry sat down at the edge of a chair and glanced up at the headmaster. "_Why_ do you need me to learn about Voldemort's past?"

The headmaster hesitated for a moment, and then the words came tumbling out of the his mouth: "Why? Because I need you to discover, very gradually, that you are a horcrux, Harry, and that a shard of the Dark Lord's soul dwells within you. Once you have accepted that truth, you will understand why it is necessary for you to sacrifice yourself, my dear. You will have to die in order to save the world from Lord Voldemort."

"What the _hell_?" Phineas Nigellus Black's portrait glared at Dumbledore from the wall. "Have you lost the last remnants of your already very tenuous sanity, Albus? You are a Headmaster of Hogwarts, for Salazar's sake! That office comes with many rights and privileges, but imposing the death penalty on your students is not among them."

"Hear, hear!" muttered one of the other portraits, and several others nodded in agreement.

"Be quiet! All of you!" Dumbledore pointed his wand menacingly at each portrait in turn. "You don't understand the times we live in, Phineas. These are dark times indeed, and sacrifices must be made in order to stop the Dark Lord."

A wizard with an old-fashioned ruffled shirt shook his head. "Is that so? Then tell me about_your_ sacrifices, Albus."

Dumbledore rounded on the portrait. "Tell you about _my_ sacrifices, Everard? Gladly! I have made more sacrifices than you could ever imagine! Do you remember the Dark Wizard called Grindelwald?"

"The one you defeated in 1945?" asked Harry gently.

"That's the one, Harry." Dumbledore stood silently for a moment. Then he whispered: "No one will ever know how much that victory cost me, Harry."

"What do you mean?"

There was a strange glitter in Dumbledore's blue eyes, something like... tears?

"Gellert Grindelwald," the headmaster whispered, "once meant more to me than anyone in the world. He still does. But he had turned to the dark side, and it was my duty to conquer both _him_ and my own feelings for him. I loved him, yes, but I never once told him how I felt. In fact, when he once confessed his feelings for _me, _I did what I had to do: I lied to him. I looked into his eyes and told him that I did not love him, that I never _could _love him. It was the most painful thing I have ever done. But it _had_ to be done; it was my duty to distance myself from him emotionally, as it was my duty to defeat him and ensure that he stays locked up in Nurmengard for his crimes. I do not visit him there, although I still long to see him. So you see, Everard, I too have made sacrifices for the greater good..."

The portrait of a green-clad witch spoke up sharply. "You lied to the person you loved, Albus - and in your mind that is the equivalent to Harry being asked to sacrifice his life?"

"Don't you understand, Phyllida?" Dumbledore's voice was trembling now. "The wizarding world, _our_ world, is threatened by Lord Voldemort, and Harry is the one destined to defeat him."

"About that destiny, sir..." Harry could feel Tom stirring invisibly behind him. "What exactly was it that the prophecy said? The one about me and Lord Voldemort?"

Dumbledore's blue eyes widened. "I already told you..." He seemed to struggle desperately with the next words, but finally he said: "But what I told you was not true, Harry. I modified the prophecy to make the truth more clear to you: You must kill Lord Voldemort, and he must kill you. For some reason, Sybill's prophecy was not entirely clear on that point, so I took the liberty of amending the language of the last part of the prophecy."

"What did the prophecy originally say, then?" Harry stared at the old headmaster.

Dumbledore sighed. "Sybill got it all wrong, of course. Maybe she was drunk, as usual. The first part of the prophecy rang true, about you possessing a power the Dark Lord knows not, but then it got all jumbled towards the end."

"_What did it say_?"

Dumbledore shook his head slowly. "It said... _The Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not ... And neither can live without the other... _Sheer nonsense, of course. She _can't _have gotten that part right."

"I knew it!" Tom peeked out from under the cloak, his face flushed with anger. "_Of course_ that's what the prophecy said. How _dare _you twist the words of the prophecy to fit your own sinister plans for Harry?"

"Mr. Malfoy?" Dumbledore blinked in confusion. "What in Merlin's name are _you_ doing here? What is going-"

Tom pointed his wand at Dumbledore. "_Avad-_"

"No!" Harry pushed the wand aside. "I will _not_ have you kill him, Tom."

"_Tom_?" Dumbledore was deathly pale now. "What... what is the meaning of this, Harry? Why are you calling him "Tom"?" His blue eyes widened in sudden comprehension. "You are not Draco Malfoy at all, are you? You are..."

"_Obliviate!_" Tom flicked his wand lazily at the headmaster, and Dumbledore's blue gaze became strangely distant and unfocused.

Tom pointed his wand at each of the portraits in turn and repeated the charm.

"Please!" The last portrait, that of Phineas Nigellus Black, looked pleadingly at Tom. "If you have any mercy in your soul, boy, please don't rob me of this lovely memory. _Please_ let me remember Dumbledore confessing to lying through his teeth. You _can't_ take that away from-"

"Sorry, Phineas." Tom grinned up at the portrait. "Nothing personal; you just can't be too careful where Dumbledore is concerned. _Obliviate!_"


	7. Strange truths

**~Surrender~**

**Rating: M for slash (homoerotic relationship) in later chapters. **Oh, and in this chapter, we have underage drinking as well. The Dark Lord is a bad influence...

**Warning: **This is a Harry Potter/Voldemort romance set during Harry's sixth year at Hogwarts. Read at your own risk.

**Author's Note: **The end of this chapter may shock you. Just trust me, all right? I'll try to update soon.

...

**~Chapter 7~**

"Just a moment, Mr. Potter."

Harry was on his way up the stairs after dinner when Snape's familiar chilly voice made him pause. Harry groaned. Where was that invisibility cloak when he needed it? Oh, damn, Tom still had it, didn't he?

"Yes, Professor?" Harry turned around, reluctantly, and faced the former potions master.

"I need a word with you, Mr. Potter."

Harry knew that icy softness in Snape's voice all too well. It usually spelled trouble for The Boy Who Lived. Harry glanced around, desperate to sense a slight movement in the air that would signal that Tom was nearby, invisible under the cloak, but there was nothing. Tom must have gone up to the Slytherin common room with Zabini.

Harry glanced at the dark-clad master and braced himself. Snape wished to speak to him. And, Merlin help us, Snape was probably still under the influence of his own truth serum. This wasn't going to be pleasant.

Snape stood quite still for a moment, black inscrutable eyes boring into Harry's soul. Then Snape said quietly: "Do you need help, Mr. Potter?"

"What?" Harry blinked at Snape in confusion. Whatever he had expected Snape to say, it certainly wasn't _that. _Was this some sort of trap? "Help with what?"

Snape glanced around quickly. No one else was within earshot. He leaned closer to Harry and said in a low voice. "I could sense the Dark Lord inside your mind, Harry. Earlier, in Defense Against the Dark Arts class. What is happening to you? Why is he possessing your thoughts? Are you in danger?"

Harry gazed up at Snape, puzzled. "What? Why..." He could feel a faint prickle of curiosity. Perhaps this was a good opportunity to get some answers from Snape, once and for all. "Why do _you_ care whether I am in danger, Professor?" Harry tried to keep the aggression out of his voice, but it was never easy when speaking to Snape.

Snape sighed and rubbed his forehead. "Why do I _care_? Oh, for Merlin's sake, you exasperating little brat, do you always have to question my motives? I was offering to _help _you, damn it. You really _are _the most annoying Gryffindor to walk these halls since Sirius Black himself. I know that people have already told you _ad nauseam _how much you resemble your father and your mother, but I swear there are times when you remind me even more of your blasted godfather. That's probably why I always feel like hexing the living daylight out of you two minutes into any conversation I have with you. Like you, Mr. Black would always construe the most innocent remark I made to be the final proof of my undying allegiance to the Dark Forces. It was terribly tiresome."

Harry couldn't help smiling. Snape under the influence of veritaserum was... remarkably like the Snape he had always known. It was rather reassuring in a strange sort of way. Harry glanced curiously at the master's white expressionless face. "Sir, I have always wondered... Which side are you really on, Voldemort's or Dumbledore's?"

Snape was silent for a moment. Then he whispered: "Neither."

"Then which side _are _you on?" Harry felt confused.

"Yours." Snape refused to meet his glance. "Always yours, Harry. For your mother's sake. I will lay down my life for you if necessary..." Snape's voice trailed off. He seemed to hesitate for a moment, but then his dark eyes narrowed. "I will _also_ punish you severely for feeding me my own veritaserum, Mr. Potter. I was wondering where those missing vials had gone, but seeing that I suddenly feel an overwhelming need to lay my soul bare for you, I don't think there can be any question about that. Five hundred points from Gryffindor, Mr. Potter."

Harry gazed up at Snape. His mind was reeling. "You... you dock me five hundred points and you think I'm an annoying brat, but you are willing to _die_ for me?"

Snape stood in complete silence for a moment. Then an almost imperceptible smile brushed over his pale features. "Yes. Yes, I think that about sums things up, Mr. Potter."

"I see." Harry grinned. "That's... that's good to know, Professor. And don't worry about the shadowy figure you saw in my mind; I am not in danger of any sort from the Dark Lord at the moment. He is no longer a threat to me."

"Is that so?" Snape's face was impassive. "That's a rather unusual situation for you, isn't it? And speaking of the unusual, Mr. Potter: The conversations at the staff table were rather more interesting than usual this evening. I learned a great deal more about my colleagues than I ever desired to know, quite frankly. Apparently, Professor Sinistra and Bane the centaur are engaged in more than stargazing in the Forbidden Forest at night. I did _not _need to know that. And if you ask me, I do not think Professor Flitwick's feelings for the Grey Lady are entirely natural, and I certainly did _not_ wish to know about Professor McGonagall's secret hankering for tinned Muggle cat food."

"_What?_"

"Apparently, the salmon flavored ones are completely irresistible. She sometimes eats them on toast. Professor Dumbledore," continued Snape in the same emotionless tone, "also had quite a few remarkable confessions to make. Apparently, his feelings for The Boy Who Lived are rather less warm and sentimental than most of us had imagined, and the headmaster's secret plans for your future are rather... chilling. Professor McGonagall had to be physically restrained to keep her from - ahem - "punching that damn twinkle out of his eyes once and for all", as she phrased it. And judging by the expression on Professor Sprout's face and her wild mutterings about bubotuber pus, I would not be at all surprised if Professor Dumbledore's acid pops started _popping_ in his mouth rather more than usual in the near future. I dare say the headmaster will need to cast quite a few memory charms in the morning to get on speaking terms with his staff again. And speaking of Professor Dumbledore and memory charms, Mr. Potter..."

"Yes?" Harry tried hard not to blush under Snape's penetrating black gaze.

"The headmaster was talking at some length about a ring he seems to have misplaced. You may have noticed a rather striking ring on the headmaster's hand during his welcoming speech. It is set with an unusual black stone. The ring has gone missing, and the headmaster is desperate to find it. But the odd thing is that he simply _can't _remember when and where he last saw it. Isn't that curious, Mr. Potter?"

"Yes," muttered Harry. "Very... curious, sir."

Harry held his breath, waiting for Snape to accuse him of stealing Dumbledore's ring. But Snape merely gazed at him for a long moment. Then the former potions master whispered: "If you happen to find that stone, use it well... That will be all, Mr. Potter."

...

"So what do you think it all means, Tom?" Harry leaned up against his pillows and sipped at the glass of champagne Tom had provided for him. It tasted light and luminous and crisp, like September sunshine in a glass. Apparently, Slughorn's memory had evoked a sudden nostalgia for champagne in Tom, for he had shown up with a dusty bottle and two glasses as soon as the other Gryffindor boys had fallen into their usual enchanted slumber.

"The prophecy?" A smile illuminated Tom's impossibly beautiful face. "_And neither can live without the other? _Why, I should have thought that the answer is obvious, my dear. It means that we belong together, you and I." He reached out and brushed a hand gently through Harry's messy hair. "Always."

Harry felt a strange and pleasurable shiver at the touch. "You will stay with me forever, then?"

"Of course I will." Tom poured himself some more champagne. "Well, except tomorrow morning. Since it's Saturday and we don't have classes, I'm going to leave you for a few hours to go and take care of a few things. But I will be back as soon as I can."

"Really?" Harry felt ridiculously disappointed. He had already planned the Hogsmeade trip with Tom in his head. "Where are you going, then?"

But Tom just laughed and shook his head. "Oh, I don't think you want to know, Harry. Dark Lord business. Apparently, you can't leave death eaters unsupervised for long periods of time, or they will get themselves into all sorts of mischief."

Harry swallowed. "So you are still... Voldemort, then?"

Tom put his glass down on the bedside table. "Did you think I wasn't?" he asked softly. There was a strange expression on his face that Harry couldn't read.

Harry looked down. "No, it's not that... I just..."

"Just what?" Tom's hand brushed lightly over his cheek.

"I don't want you to be _him_," whispered Harry. "I want you to be _you. _Just Tom."

"I see." Tom flopped down among Harry's pillows. "No dark cloaks and death eaters? But I look good in black!" His silver eyes sparkled. "Oh, and we should keep the death eaters, Harry, really we should. At least a few of them. I'll make them do your homework for you if you want."

Harry laughed. "Yes, you can make Snape do my potions homework. I like that idea."

Tom grinned. "I _could _do it, you know. It would be rather amusing. But who will I ask to kill Dumbledore for me? I was thinking of asking Draco, but since he is not here..."

Harry shook his head rapidly. "No, Tom. No more killing. No murders."

"_Ever?" _Tom seemed stunned at the thought. "You know I am always happy to do what you want, my dear, but do _try_ and be reasonable. Bellatrix is an excellent assassin-"

Harry turned his face away. "I know, Tom. She killed my godfather, Sirius Black."

"I never asked her to do that," said Tom softly. "She acted on her own accord. But I will make sure that she never harms anyone you care for ever again. Bella will always do whatever I ask of her; she is completely devoted to me, heart and soul."

" I know." Harry's glance lingered on Tom's dark curls. "She is in love with you, isn't she?"

"Yes, of course." Tom reached out lazily for the champagne. "Here, have some more, Harry. 1921 is one of my favorite vintages, and this bottle was stored well; I lifted it from the Minister's wine cellars myself. It's lovely to be back at Hogwarts, but I've had enough of that ghastly pumpkin juice this past week to last me for a lifetime. This is _much_ better, isn't it?"

Harry sipped the sparkling drink. The little bubbles seemed to flow straight into his blood, and he was beginning to feel lightheaded. He looked at Tom's lovely face, flushed from the champagne now, and his heart gave a curious little lurch.

"Do you love her?"

"Who?" Tom seemed puzzled for a moment. "Oh, Bella, you mean? No, of course not." He made a face. "What a preposterous idea, my dear."

"So you were never... lovers? You and Bellatrix?" Harry's voice didn't seem to be working properly; it sounded all hoarse and funny.

"Lovers? Oh, yes, from time to time." Tom sat up in Harry's bed now. "Oh. That thought disturbs you, doesn't it? Don't worry, Harry - I'll inform her that it will never happen again."

"Er... okay." Harry buried his flushing face in his pillow. He couldn't help but wonder how many lovers the Dark Lord had had. Perhaps he didn't really want to know the answer to that.

"Are you all right?" Tom's voice was a whisper in his ear. "Come, let's finish the champagne."

"I'm not even of age yet," muttered Harry as he sat up and reached for his glass. "We must be breaking all sorts of school rules right now."

Tom laughed. "School rules? Oh, don't be absurd, Harry! If anyone were to come in and find the Dark Lord in Harry Potter's bed, I really don't think they would be particularly worried about the champagne, my dear." He raised his glass. "To us, Harry, and to the true prophecy!"

...

"That's funny," muttered Ron as they were passing the House Points hourglasses in the entrance hall the next morning. "I could have sworn Gryffindor had a lot more points than _that._" He frowned at the few scattered rubies at the bottom of the Gryffindor hourglass. "We had as many as Slytherin, and quite a few more than Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. It looks like Gryffindor lost hundreds and hundreds of points overnight."

"I asked some of the professors about it earlier," said Hermione thoughtfully. "But no one seems to know anything about it. In fact, all of the professors seemed to be in a sort of daze this morning. None of them remembered anything at all from last night, and no one recalled taking points from Gryffindor. Strange, isn't it?"

"Er..." Harry felt himself flush. "I'm afraid I... ran into Snape last night."

Hermione groaned. "Seriously, Harry! You _must_ learn not to provoke Snape. What _did _you say to him?"

"I wish I had been there to hear it," muttered Ron wistfully. "It must have been _good, _to make you lose... how many points did he dock you?"

"Five hundred. I'm... sorry about that."

Ron gave a whistle. "Wow. Five hundred? Even Fred and George never managed more than three hundred in a single night." He put his arm around Harry's shoulder. "Come on. I'll buy you a butterbeer in Hogsmeade to cheer you up. Just _wait _till Fred and George hear of this! They'll be _impressed._"

Hermione glanced coldly at Ron. "It's not funny, Ronald. Gryffindor is completely out of the running for the House Cup now."

"Yeah, right." Ron didn't look the least bit concerned. "Don't worry, Hermione. You _know_ Harry will pull off some fantastic stunt at the end and win us the cup, like he usually does. If you kill You-Know-Who before June, that should be worth _thousands _of points, don't you think, Harry?"

Harry squirmed. "Er... I suppose so. Come on, let's go get some cockroach clusters, shall we? I'm famished."

...

The cockroach clusters were good, and the company even better. Harry thoroughly enjoyed laughing with Ron and Hermione over butterbeers at the Three Broomsticks and browsing the bizarre artifacts at Zonko's. He rolled his eyes when he found a bin of fake lightning bolt scars, but he bought one each for Ron and Hermione anyway. They immediately charmed the marks onto their foreheads, laughing madly.

"Fake _dark marks_?" Hermione peered into another bin. "I can't imagine who would want to buy _those_!"

"Let me see!" Harry selected a particularly ominous-looking one. "I'll take one. I know someone who would find it rather funny."

Hermione smiled to herself. "Where _is_ Draco today, anyway?" she asked casually. "I would have thought he'd want to come to Hogsmeade with you."

"He had a few things to do," said Harry quickly. "I'm sure he will come along later." He paid for his purchases, and the shopkeeper giggled so hard when he saw what Harry bought that he made the wrong change twice.

"Oh, I see him!" exclaimed Hermione as they stepped out into the street. "Look, there he is, Harry - behind the hawthorn bushes."

"What's he slinking around in the bushes for, anyway?" muttered Ron, but Hermione shushed him.

Harry, who had also spied a flash of dark robes and flaxen hair among the hawthorn, smiled to himself. "I'll see if he wants to join us..."

He approached the hawthorn bushes and bent the branches gently aside.

The next moment, his breath caught painfully in his chest. Two boys were standing there, with their backs to the street. The September sun made Draco Malfoy's white-gold hair shine like a halo. But Tom didn't turn around. Apparently, he didn't hear Harry coming.

He was busy kissing Blaise Zabini.

_To Be Continued..._


	8. Surrender

**~Surrender~**

**Rating: M for slash (homoerotic relationship). **

**Warning: **This is a Harry Potter/Voldemort romance set during Harry's sixth year at Hogwarts. Read at your own risk. This chapter contains some **heavy angst** and some **fluffy fluff**. In that order.

**Author's Note: **Sorry about the delay! I usually update faster than this, but this chapter was particularly difficult to write.

...

**~Chapter 8~**

Perhaps Dumbledore had been right, after all.

Perhaps Harry _was_ meant to die by Voldemort's hand in the end. For it felt as if Harry's heart stood painfully still in his chest when he saw Tom and Blaise Zabini, so lost in one another that they neither saw nor heard him. Their arms were wound so tightly around one another that they seemed to have become one being. Zabini's hand was trembling as it brushed through that luminous white-gold hair, again and again.

A soft moan of pleasure escaped Tom. Now Harry knew for sure that he was going to die, because the slight sound seemed to tear his very soul apart. The basilisk venom that once coursed through his body, the searing pain when Voldemort touched him in the graveyard, the blinding agony of the cruciatus curse - it was all nothing, compared to _this. _

The next moment, Harry seemed to be running, running away from the terrible, unbearable beauty of Tom's frantic kisses against Zabini's mouth. He could sense something wet against his face. Maybe he was crying; he didn't really know.

_This is how the world ends, Tom. Not on a battleground, as I once thought it would, with you and me locking eyes among the dead and the dying, the air heavy with the scent of blood. The world ends quietly, like this, on a golden autumn day as you hold another in your arms. This is how the world ends. _

Something was breaking, some sweet fragile dream that Harry's heart must have been spinning in secret. Some absurd hope that Harry didn't know he had harbored had shattered the moment Tom had kissed Blaise Zabini in the golden September sun. The strange magic that had entered his life was gone, and Harry was alone again. _More_ alone now than ever, now that he knew what it was like to be held spellbound by the Dark Lord's soft laughter and silver eyes...

Someone was calling out behind him, but Harry didn't turn around. He ran blindly until he found himself back in the Gryffindor dormitory. Harry sank down on his bed and buried his face in his pillow. But Tom's scent still lingered on the gold and crimson fabric, and Harry shivered uncontrollably as he remembered Tom's arms around _him. _

_Nothing. _Tom's constant hovering over him, the secret smiles, the warmth of Tom's limbs as they drifted off to sleep in each other's arms - it had meant nothing. Harry was the Dark Lord's horcrux, one of his prized possessions, that was all. Had he really believed that Tom felt something for him other than possessiveness-? Oh, Harry didn't know what he had thought. His conscious mind had assumed nothing, but his heart seemed to have made its own absurd assumptions about him and Tom, affirmed by the true ending to the prophecy. _Neither can live without the other._ Strange, lovely words that held a promise of things Harry hadn't dared to put into words...

_Neither can live without the other? _No. That wasn't the true prophecy after all, was it? How could it be, when Tom and Zabini were embracing in the golden September light? Perhaps Dumbledore was capable of lying through Veritaserum. Or perhaps the prophecy Dumbledore had finally told them _was _true, but only for Harry. He had surrendered himself, completely and absurdly, to the Dark Lord, and he was no longer able to live without him. When had he fallen so helplessly in love with Tom?

_This is how the world ends._

Harry fumbled for his wand, trying to hold his hand steady. Could a person fire the _Avada _curse on himself, or was there some magic that would forbid it?

Strangely numb, Harry pointed the wand at his heart.

"_Av..._ _Ava-_"

But his wand jerked itself out of his hand, hard, and fell to the floor with a dull thud. Harry tried to reach for it, but the wand squirmed away, emitting little hissing red and gold sparks as it rolled under one of the beds.

Something fluttered against the window now, again and again. There was a furious tapping at the glass pane. _Hedwig?_ The owl rapped her beak so insistently at the glass that Harry had to let her in. He sank back down on his bed, and Hedwig landed softly on top of him. She pulled gently on his hair and nestled warmly against his neck. Harry stroked slowly through the snow-white feathers, and Hedwig gave a quiet hoot against his throat.

"Harry?" Rapid footsteps were approaching, and Ron's breathless voice sounded near Harry's ear.

"Leave me alone," whispered Harry. He hid his face in Hedwig's soft flurry of feathers and strangled a sob. "Please go away. Just leave me alone."

"We are not going away, Harry," said Hermione's voice gently, and Harry felt an arm around his shoulders. "We are going to stay right here with you. You are in no state to be alone right now. Even your owl seems to know that."

A hand patted Harry clumsily on the head. "I'm going punch that foul two-timing git in the face for you, Harry." Ron's voice had a determined ring to it. "Blimey, there really _was_ something going on between you and Malfoy, then? Oh, well, there is no accounting for taste, I suppose."

"_Ronald! _How insensitive can you _get_?" Hermione sounded indignant.

Harry wiped his face in his pillow and sat up. "No... No, there wasn't anything between us. Not really. We were just friends. He has every right to kiss whoever he wants. It's not like I care..." He choked on his own words.

"Yeah, right." Ron rubbed his freckled nose thoughtfully. "I'm not all that good about this stuff, but even I can see that you _do_. That loathsome piece of scum! Hermione, you'll hex him good, won't you? Wait, how did you follow me in here anyway? Girls aren't supposed to be able to get into the boys' dormitory."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "The wards aren't _that_ advanced, Ron. Unlike the ones that protect the girls' dormitory. I don't think anyone could get through _those, _and Merlin knows that enough boys have tried."

"_Harry!_ Are you all right?" Harry glanced up, startled, as a familiar voice sounded from the doorway. _Tom._ Oh, God. Tom. How did _he _get here so quickly? Harry would have thought that he would still be busy with Zabini. No. No, he couldn't bear to talk to Tom right now.

"What is going on? Something felt horribly wrong, so I hurried back here. Harry? Why in Merlin's name are you crying? What happened to you?" Tom shoved Ron and Hermione unceremoniously aside and sank down on Harry's bed. He flung his arms around Harry and held him so tight that Harry almost couldn't breathe. "Oh, I _knew_ I should never have left you by yourself. Are you hurt? Tell me what-"

Tom's words were cut short by the sound of a sharp slap. Tom let go of Harry, raised his hand to his cheek and looked at Hermione in astonishment. "Hermione? What are you-"

Harry grabbed Hermione before she could hit Tom again and pinned her arms to her side. She squirmed madly, trying to break away. "Let me at him, Harry! He has no right to do this to you!"

"Do _what_?" Tom stared at her.

Ron leapt to his feet. "Oh, that's a little rich, Malfoy. We _saw_ you, you evil git, in Hogsmeade... Wait, how did _you _get in here? Slytherin students aren't supposed to be able to get into the Gryffindor dormitory."

"You saw me... in Hogsmeade?" Tom seemed completely disoriented.

"_Kissing_ Blaise Zabini." Ron glared accusingly at him.

"You saw me _what_? Why in Merlin's name would I kiss Blaise Zabini? Have you lost your mind?" Tom glanced around at the three of them, a baffled expression on his face. Then his grey eyes widened. "Oh... You saw _Draco Malfoy_ in Hogsmeade?"

"You'd better not try to deny-" began Hermione, but Tom wasn't listening.

A sudden flush of fury danced over his pale face, and his eyes flashed. "_Draco Malfoy._ In bloody Hogsmeade, in broad daylight! Of all the dimwitted, irresponsible... Oh, Lucius is going to _pay_ for this! He can't get the simplest thing right, can he? He can't hang on to his own house elf, he can't go and retrieve a glass trinket for you without _breaking _it, and he can't keep himself out of jail. And by Salazar, he can't even _babysit!_"

"What on earth are you talking about, Draco?" Hermione looked at him in complete incomprehension. "That's an odd way to speak about your father."

"Oh, I have a great deal more to say... Wait, _why_ were you crying, my dear?" Tom turned suddenly to Harry. His glance lingered on Harry's tear-stained face for a long moment, and he drew his breath sharply. An expression of wonder passed over his face. "Harry? Were you crying because you thought it was... _me_? Is that why you were feeling so miserable? Yes, I could sense your misery, even at a distance, and it was almost enough to make my heart stop in fear. You were upset because you thought _I _was kissing Zabini?"

Ron grabbed Tom by the collar. "Oh, don't even _try_ that, Malfoy. We _saw_ you. Don't tell us you have an identical evil twin!" He snorted, but Tom merely brushed him absently aside. His eyes - Draco's eyes, but Tom's nevertheless - were fixed on Harry's face, and there was a curiously soft expression in them.

Harry felt his heart give a leap. "It wasn't _you_? But then... But then it must have been... _Draco_?" His heart seemed so strangely light all of a sudden, and he could feel the blood rushing madly through his veins.

Hermione looked from Harry to Tom and back at Harry again. "Harry? What is going on here?"

"You were _jealous_? Because you thought I kissed someone else?" whispered Tom. "But that's.. that's simply... _wonderful_." His fingers brushed softly over Harry's face. His touch was as light as a whisper of wind, and Harry felt his breath catch in his throat. "Well, not the part about you crying and being miserable, of course, but to imagine that you were upset because you thought I kissed _Zabini! _After all the suffering I have inflicted on you in the past, I hardly dared to hope that you could ever... But you would really _mind_ if I were to kiss someone else?" Tom's eyes were shining now. "What a perfectly absurd idea, anyway! Why would I go around kissing _him_? Zabini is not bad-looking, of course, but have you noticed how terribly _tidy_ his hair is? Where is the charm in _that_?" Tom leaned forward and planted a light kiss on top of Harry's head.

"Harry! Who in Merlin's name _is _this?" said Hermione sharply. "If he is not Draco, then who-"

"Never mind, Hermione," said Tom softly. Suddenly, his wand was in his hand, and he waved it lazily at Ron and Hermione. "_Obliviate._" Then he reached for Harry's hand. "This dormitory is getting a little crowded, my love. My place instead?"

Harry pressed his hand, hard. "That sounds like a good idea, Tom."

"Good." Tom buried his lips in Harry's messy hair. "I have a little surprise for you back at the Riddle House."

...

Tom assumed his own form as soon as they were inside the Riddle House. Harry felt ridiculously relieved to see the familiar dark curls and silver eyes again.

"Back so soon, Master?" A little house elf bowed deeply before Tom.

Tom nodded briefly. "Yes, Winzy. We need a meal prepared, of course, with all of Master Harry's favorite dishes, and some of our best wine as well. We will retire to my chambers after lunch, and we do not want to be disturbed under any circumstances. Oh, and you may dispatch a fanged howler to Malfoy Manor and inform Lucius that his appalling incompetence has not passed unnoticed by me. He will hear from me shortly."

"Yes, Master." The house elf bowed again.

"Any change in our guest's... condition?" Tom added, seemingly as an afterthought.

_Guest? _Harry glanced curiously at Tom.

"No change, sir." For some reason, the house elf looked slightly worried at this.

"Excellent!" Harry could sense the wave of relief that ran through Tom's mind.

"Who's here, Tom? Who is your guest?"

"All in good time, my love." Tom's silver eyes glittered. "First things first..." He threw his arms around Harry, and the house elf gulped and vanished.

"So let's get this straight," whispered Tom against Harry's ear. "You don't want me to kiss anyone else, _ever_?"

Harry felt his cheeks grow hot. "I know that's a lot to ask..."

"A lot to ask?" Tom breathed. "Don't be absurd! It is a completely reasonable request; it fact, it is one that it will be ridiculously simple to fulfill. Let's just make absolutely certain that I get the wording of your request just right. You don't want me to kiss anyone _else_. Does that mean that I can kiss _you_?"

Harry's heart lurched as he gazed into Tom's quicksilver eyes. "You... you can kiss me as often as you like."

Tom leaned forward and kissed Harry softly on the lips, and time seemed to come to a complete standstill. Tom's kiss was a kiss of possession, a kiss of tenderness and yearning, a kiss of desperate hunger, of dark longing so deep and perilous your soul could get lost in it, a lover's kiss... It was a kiss of absolute surrender.

"You love me..." whispered Harry against Tom's mouth.

"Always." Trembling fingers ran through Harry's hair, stroked his throat, fumbled at the fabric of his shirt.

"I am in love with you," breathed Harry. "But I didn't know it until today, not until I thought you loved someone else..."

Tom's warm breathless kisses trailed down Harry's throat. "What a ridiculous idea, Harry. How could you possibly think that I could love someone else when I have found _you_, my very soul..."

"But you left, and you wouldn't say where you were going... I thought you had gone to see Blaise."

Tom laughed. "What a preposterous idea, love. I came back here earlier, to the Riddle House, because I had something rather important to do. I have caused you a great deal of pain in the past, and I would do anything to undo that. Come, I will show you." He took Harry by the hand and dragged him in the direction of the stairs. "I have a surprise for you, my love. I think you will like it. This is why I had to leave you earlier today; it would have been too risky to perform this sort of magic in school, and besides, I wasn't sure if I was going to be able to get it right the first time."

He led Harry up to an upstairs hallway and paused before a closed door. Tom kissed Harry quickly on the lips. "This is only the beginning, my love. I want to give you everything. Everything you have ever lost will be restored to you."

"What-?" began Harry, but Tom just smiled. "You will see." He pushed the door open.

A boy was sitting in an armchair by the window, reading a book. He glanced up as Harry and Tom entered. The boy looked at Tom with curiosity, but without any apparent recognition. But when his glance fell on Harry, he lit up in a sudden smile.

"Hello, Harry! Fancy seeing you here! I say, do you have any idea at all where we are? I just woke up in this room, and I have no idea how I got here. I tried to ask the house elf who brought me food, but she wouldn't say."

Harry gazed at the boy in complete incomprehension. But that was... That was...

_Cedric Diggory?_


	9. Ars Longa, Vita Brevis

**~Surrender~**

**...**

**Rating: M for slash (homoerotic relationship). **

**Warning: **This is a Harry Potter/Voldemort romance set during Harry's sixth year at Hogwarts. Read at your own risk.

There is some ***mature content* **in this chapter.

**Author's Note:** _One reader, DarkBuddha, asks an excellent question: Why were Tom and Harry drinking 1921 champagne in a previous chapter, rather than a bottle from a year with more symbolic significance, such as the year of Tom's birth (1926) or the year when Tom first arrived at Hogwarts (1938)? I love the idea of choosing numbers with symbolic significance, but both 1926 and 1938 were terrible years for champagne. The Dark Lord has many faults, but I don't think that drinking 1938 champagne is among them._

...

**~Chapter 9~**

Harry stood frozen and stared at Cedric Diggory, who appeared to be quite unaware that he was The Boy Who Died.

"What... what are you doing here, Cedric?"

"No idea, Harry." Cedric closed his book with a smile. "Last thing I remember, you and I were in a graveyard, and there were death eaters all around us. After that, everything got sort of hazy. But then I woke up and found myself in this house. I bet the same thing happened to you, right?" Cedric glanced around. "Grand place, isn't it? I wonder whose house this is. The home of our unknown rescuer, perhaps? Who's your friend, Harry?"

Harry flushed, hard. He glanced over at Tom, who was standing, smiling, by his side. "This is Tom. He's my... erm... boyfriend?"

Tom made a small noise of assent and kissed Harry quickly on the head.

"Your boyfriend? Really?" Cedric looked vaguely surprised. "I had no idea you... went that way, Harry. Wait, does that mean that you are not interested in Cho any more?"

"Er... No. I'm definitely not interested in Cho."

"Oh, good." Cedric got up from his chair. "Well, we should try to find our way back, then, shouldn't we? To Hogwarts? I expect everyone will be rather anxious about us; they'll probably think we are still inside that maze."

"Right." Harry swallowed. Apparently, Cedric had no notion that he had been dead for the past year and a half. "Listen, Cedric - I think there are a few practical details to iron out first, before we can go back to Hogwarts. I need to talk to Tom for a little while. He's... he's the one who brought you here, you see. I'll... I'll talk to you in a little bit, Cedric."

"All right." Cedric nodded agreeably and picked up his book again. "Nice to meet you, Tom."

...

Harry dragged Tom into The Dark Lord's private chambers and closed the door.

"So? Were you surprised, my love?" Tom's silver eyes shone, and he kissed Harry softly on the lips.

"Tom?" Harry sank down on the bed. "Tom, what did you _do_? That's... that's Cedric Diggory. You ordered him killed in the graveyard after the Triwizard Tournament. You told them to kill the spare... He was _dead._"

"Right." Tom's hand brushed gently through Harry's unruly hair. "But now he's not. I brought him back from the dead. I thought you'd be pleased to see him again; you seemed so terribly upset when he died."

Harry felt strangely numb. "You brought Cedric back from the dead... _how_?'

Tom grinned. "Yes, I thought you'd be curious about that." He reached into his pocket and pulled out the ring that Harry had seen on Dumbledore's hand before. "_This, _Harry, is no ordinary stone. It was passed down in my family for generations, but I did not understand its true nature until recently. It's an ancient magical artifact, my love, called The Resurrection Stone. It can bring back the dead."

Harry stared at the small black stone, and he felt goosebumps rising on his flesh. "That stone can bring back the _dead_? But that's... that's not _natural, _Tom."

"Natural?" Tom raised an eyebrow. "Of course it's not natural, my love. Dying is natural; bringing the dead back to life is an _art_. Art is never natural, but it makes life so much more pleasant. The living flowers outside are natural, but the rather charming van Huysum flower painting hanging in the hallway is a work of art. The excellent lunch the house elves are preparing for us at this moment is not natural either. We will not tear at the uncooked flesh of animals with our teeth like savage beasts; we will eat artfully prepared steak _au poivre _on gold-rimmed china plates_. _We will not consume sour wild grapes in their natural state; we will drink a well-aged 1945 Château Mouton Rothschild. Why, if we were to embrace only what's natural, we would be sleeping outside on the hard ground tonight, instead of in soft beds. And speaking of beds and delightful unnatural things, my love..." His kisses trailed suggestively down Harry's throat.

"Tom..." Harry swallowed. "This isn't _right..._"

"Oh." Tom pulled back, startled. "I'm sorry, that was presumptuous of me. But you said that you loved me earlier, so I thought that maybe you..."

Harry had to laugh. "Not _that, _Tom. You can kiss me and... and whatever else you were thinking of doing any time. I meant bringing Cedric back, Tom. It's not... not normal. It can't be right, to awaken the dead." He swallowed.

"What? Why not?" Tom seemed baffled.

"Cedric was _dead. _You can't just bring him back like some... some undead zombie."

Tom sighed deeply and ran his fingers through his dark curls. "_Zombie?_ Oh, why do you have to be so terribly morbid about this, love? Your friend Cedric is not a monstrous zombie; he is a human work of art. I revived him very carefully, and it was not a simple thing to do. Think of him as similar to a bottle of complex, perfectly aged Bordeaux..."

"But Tom, it's not normal... The dead aren't supposed to come back alive again."

Tom frowned. "Now, I don't mean to be critical of you, love, but don't you think you are being just a bit difficult here? You were upset because I killed your parents and your friend, which is understandable. But now you seem almost equally upset that I am bringing them _back _from the dead. I won't call you unreasonable_, _of course, but sometimes you _are_ rather difficult to please..."

"My parents?" Harry stared at Tom. "Tom, have you... Have you brought my parents back as well?"

"Not yet, no." Tom sat down on the bed next to Harry and slipped his arms around him. "I'm going to bring them back in due time, of course, and your godfather as well, but I didn't want to start with them in case I didn't get the magic right the first time. Some of the ancient legends are full of warnings about dead souls who return to some sort of unsatisfactory half-life. But seeing that the boy Cedric, who was my test case, seems to have turned out all right, I think it would be safe to proceed to the people who are more important to you. Oh, I could have started with some random people, I suppose, like that old Muggle tramp I murdered years ago, but he wouldn't have been very amusing to have around, would he now? That's why I picked the boy - I thought you would be pleased to have him back, but you wouldn't be heartbroken if he didn't come out quite right when I brought him back. I couldn't risk bringing back imperfect versions of your parents or godfather, of course; I wanted to master the complicated magic of the stone before bringing _them_ back."

"But Tom..."

"What?" Tom's lips found Harry's throat again.

"Death is..." It was really very difficult to think properly, when Tom did that... "Death is inevitable. It's a natural part of life, not something to be avoided. To the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure..."

"What?" Tom burst out laughing. "Who told you _that? _Dumbledore?"

Harry flushed. "Well, yes."

"Thought so," whispered Tom against his skin. "A very noble sentiment, headmaster! And yet, Dumbledore's withered hand suggests that his mind must not have been all _that_ well-organized. There must have been _someone _he wanted to bring back from the dead."

Harry closed his eyes and surrendered himself to the soft kisses that set his skin on fire. "You are really going to bring back Sirius, Tom?" he whispered. "And my parents as well?"

"Well, of course," breathed Tom. "I want to give you back everyone you have ever lost, my love. But it may be more prudent to bring back your guardians _after _I'm done seducing you, just in case they turn out to be the overprotective sort."

Harry opened his eyes and met Tom's gaze. His eyes were all heat and molten silver. "You are seducing me-?" His voice came out as a whisper.

"I hope so..." There was a slight quiver in Tom's voice, and Harry seemed to have forgotten how to breathe.

Tom's lips were warm and trembling against his own, and Harry could feel eager fingers tearing at his clothes. Tom's hands found his skin under his clothes, and Harry melted into his touch. Another kiss against his lips now, deeper and more possessive... Tom's fingers were sliding down Harry's chest, sending pulses of white-hot fire through his veins. Harry could feel a strange fever raging through his limbs, an exquisite blaze that left his mind and his senses reeling. He tore at Tom's clothes, and he could hear fabric ripping under his frenzied hands.

_Wanting... Wanting..._ Oh, the enticing warmth of Tom's skin, the breathless kisses against his mouth... They fell onto the bed together, their clothes a tangled, forgotten mess on the floor. Tom's fiery kisses against his throat, against his chest, frantic hands finding his aching arousal, stroking, caressing... Harry moaned helplessly and arched into the touch.

"You are hard for me..." There was a note of wonder is Tom's breathless whisper. "Oh, Merlin. You are hard for _me..."_

"Ready..." An incoherent whisper fell from Harry's lips. "You... inside..."

A soft moan escaped Tom, and a searing kiss pressed against Harry's mouth. A whispered spell against his lips, ancient words that Harry only half understood. A curious sensation followed, a moist heat spreading, quivering, just _there... _A thrill of pleasure, an aching, shuddering desire...

Tom's frantic fingers searching now, his hard shaft pushed probingly against Harry, finding entrance to his body... Harry screamed out incoherently as Tom penetrated him, burying his throbbing shaft completely inside Harry's flesh. His eyes found Tom's, and the world seemed to collapse, engulfed in the single white-hot flame that shot through his mind and his body and his soul.

"Oh God, Tom... Tom..."

He surrendered himself to the Dark Lord's frantic kisses against his mouth, to the soft whispered endearments, to the frenzied strokes as Tom took possession of him, body and soul.

"Oh, God." Tom's voice was a startled whisper. "Oh, Harry, I can't... I'm sorry... You are so beautiful, I can't hold back..." His words dissolved in moans, and he moved frantically against Harry. A shuddering gasp, a breathy moan, and Tom came violently inside him, hot, glorious moisture spreading inside him... Harry came undone at the sensation, and he felt his own seed pulse against Tom's skin a moment later.

"At last..." Tom's voice was a breathless whisper in his ear. "I must have wanted you like this since time began."

The lay completely still for several long moments, burning skin against burning skin, gasping for breath.

Harry felt a strange quiver in his heart as he looked into Tom's luminous quicksilver eyes. Tom's pale cheeks were flushed now, and there was an expression on his face of such infinite tenderness that it took Harry's breath away all over again.

"I love you," breathed Tom.

Harry swallowed. Something was tugging strangely at his heart. "Tom?" His voice was a whisper. "It's not really _me_ you love, is it?"

"What?" Tom pressed a trembling kiss against Harry's scar. "How can you even think that? You can't still be jealous of Zabini - I wasn't even the one kissing him! I thought I had just demonstrated, beyond all possible doubt, that it is you I love."

Harry flushed. "Yes, I know, but... It's not really about _me, _is it? You love me because I am your horcrux, because I am a part of _you_. It's the _horcrux_ you love, not me, Tom..."

"The horcrux?" Tom laughed, but Harry shook his head. "No, Tom, I mean it..."

"All right." Tom smiled and kissed Harry's hand gently. "Let's consider your absurd suggestion very carefully, then, my love. Let's see... This soft skin right _here, _at the back of your neck..." His kisses found the spot, "... would you say that's part of the horcrux?"

"No. That's just me."

"How about your hair, which keeps sticking up in the back in that adorable way - is _that_ part of the horcrux?"

"No," whispered Harry.

"What about that salty tang of your lips? Or the soft curve of your mouth?"

"No."

"And that maddening color of your eyes, and your warm skin, and the mesmerizing sound of your voice - are those parts of the horcrux?"

"No..."

"Then," said Tom firmly and kissed Harry on the lips, "I think we have just established that the answer to your preposterous question is 'no'. It's _not_ the horcrux I'm in love with. It's _you._"

...

"So..." Cedric frowned. "I _was _actually killed by the death eaters? And I _was _dead, but now I'm not?"

Tom nodded. "That's correct."

"Now, who are you again?" Cedric gazed at Tom without any apparent recognition.

"Tom."

"And you are Harry's...er..."

"I think 'soul mate' would be a rather appropriate term in this case." A slight smile hovered around Tom's lips.

"I see." Cedric took another sip of his wine and helped himself to more steak. "I suppose this whole business about dying explains why I'm so terribly hungry. It feels like I haven't eaten for years."

Tom nodded approvingly. "Now, that's the spirit! See how well he is handling this, Harry? He's not being a bit morbid about his own death and return, is he? There is really a great deal to be said for these down-to-earth, practical Hufflepuffs, after all. "

"My parents will probably be rather shocked to see me back, won't they?" Cedric chewed thoughtfully on his steak. "They must have been rather upset about my death. I do wish you could tell me how it all happened, but I understand that there are restrictions to this sort of magic... Oh, and what about Cho? Did she cry at all when I died, Harry?"

Harry smiled. "That would be putting it mildly. I tried asking her out, but she kept crying and talking about you. Listen, Cedric - I don't think we can just apparate back to the Hogwarts gates. I have no idea how Dumbledore will react to seeing you back from the dead, but something tells me that he will not be terribly pleased. Perhaps it would be best if we bring you back to your parents' house, and you can stay there for a bit until we sort out what to do. I'll need to talk to your parents first, though, and prepare them a bit, so they won't die of a heart attack when they see you."

"Right." Cedric nodded. "That sounds fair enough, Harry. And then perhaps Cho could come and visit me at home? My parents have never been very keen on letting me have girls visit in my room, but after all that's happened, they might soften up a little."

Harry smiled. "I wouldn't be at all surprised if they did, Cedric."

...

The Diggorys' home was not that far away from the Burrow. It was a pleasant old stone cottage surrounded by a well-kept garden of late autumn flowers.

A frumpy little witch with sad eyes opened the door when Harry knocked. Cedric, who was still hidden under Harry's invisibility cloak, drew his breath sharply.

"Yes?" It took Mrs. Diggory a moment to recognize Harry, but then her eyes fell on his scar. She swallowed audibly. "Mr. Potter. What... what are you doing here?"

"I want to speak to you about Cedric," said Harry softly.

But Mrs. Diggory shook her head. "No. There is nothing more to say, Mr. Potter. I understand that you may feel bad about not being able to save Cedric during that terrible tournament, but I can't bear to talk about it. Please leave us alone."

She was about to close the door, and Harry said rapidly: "But you don't understand, Mrs. Diggory. Cedric is not dead."

She gazed at him blankly for a moment. "What?" Her voice was a whisper.

Harry took her hand and said softly: "I know that this must come as a shock to you, Mrs. Diggory. But I have very, very good news for you. Your son is not dead."

"But I saw... his body..." Mrs. Diggory's glance had a faint glimmer of hope in it now.

"I know," said Harry gently. "But there is a sort of magic, unauthorized by the Ministry, that can reverse-"

Mrs. Diggory clasped at Harry's shirt. "He's alive? Tell me he's alive..."

"I'm alive, mother." Cedric brushed the invisibility cloak aside and smiled hesitantly at his mother.

She stared at him for one long moment, and then she threw her arms around her son. "Cedric... Oh, Merlin, Cedric!" She was laughing and sobbing at the same time.

"What is going on here?" Cedric's father, Amos Diggory, had arrived at the front door now. "What is happening, Beulah? Who is that boy you are hugg-?" He gave a shivering gasp and staggered backwards. "Oh, sweet Merlin, it _can't _be..."

"Hello father," whispered Cedric.

Mr. Diggory threw his arms around his son. Tears were streaming down his cheeks now. "But this is... this is a miracle..." He glanced up at Harry. "Harry Potter? You brought my son back?"

"With a little help from a friend," said Harry softly. "Er... It might be best not to mention this to anyone for a little while. There was some powerful illegal magic involved, and Dumbledore and the Ministry might not exactly approve..."

"Say no more," muttered Amos Diggory, stroking his son's hair. "We will keep Cedric right here with us. No one will be the wiser."

Harry smiled and strolled off to find Tom, leaving the little family to their joy. Hopefully, the Diggorys were better babysitters than the Malfoys...


	10. Meet the Parents

**~Surrender~**

**Rating: M** for slash (homoerotic relationship)

**Warning:** This is a Harry Potter/Voldemort romance set during Harry's sixth year at Hogwarts. Read at your own risk. In this chapter we have some ***mature content* **and a character expressing views that may be interpreted as homophobic.

**Author's Note:** _This story will not be updated during the month of November, since I am participating in NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month). Like many other writers on this site, I will attempt to complete the first draft of an original novel in a month._

_If you are doing NaNoWriMo as well, I'd love to hear from you - perhaps we can offer each other some support along the way._

_If you want to read more Harry/Tom (Voldemort) romance in the meantime, I can recommend ladyoflilacs' amazing story "Freefall", estalita11's wonderful "A Snake Named Voldemort", and of course the lovely "Enchantment Series 7: Ink Stained Pages" by excentrykemuse. Cen, we miss you on this site!_

_I also have a few other competed Harry/Tom stories on this site: "To Kill You With A Kiss", "In the Darkness of My Dreams", "A Twist in Time", and "The Time of Roses"._

_The next chapter of this story will be posted in early December. Thanks for reading! Reviews always make me happy, although I am sometimes terribly delinquent in responding to them._

**~Chapter 10~**

**...**

The Dark Lord looked utterly defenseless while sleeping. Harry lay quite still and watched as Tom's face gradually became visible in the soft hazy light of dawn. His eyelashes were dark against is pale cheeks, and curls were wild and mussed with sleep. There was a slight smile around his lips, and Harry couldn't help but kiss that soft curve of Tom's mouth. Tom returned the kiss in his sleep, and his arms slipped around Harry's waist so naturally that Harry couldn't help thinking that Tom must already be dreaming about holding him like this. Tom pulled him closer, and Harry smiled as he found himself lying over Tom. Was Tom awake or still dreaming? Harry let his kisses linger against the maddening curve of Tom's lips.

A small moan now, and fingers that brushed lightly down his back.

"Are you awake, Tom?"

A small sleepy moan, and then a whisper: "No... You can go right ahead and ravish me if you want."

"What?" Harry traced Tom's lips with his finger. "You would let me-?" He gazed down at the excruciatingly lovely face of the boy who was The Dark Lord, and his heart gave a strange lurch.

Tom's lips moved almost imperceptibly. "You could always try and find out, love..."

Tom's surrender was so absolute that it took Harry's breath away. His lips parted for Harry's frantic kisses, and his limbs seemed to melt into Harry's own. His skin was warm under Harry's kisses, and his shaft was hard against Harry's searching hands. There was no hesitation in Tom's silver eyes when Harry muttered the spell that had fallen from Tom's lips the night before, and no reluctance as Harry buried himself in his warm flesh.

"That feels..." Tom's gaze held Harry's for a long, trembling moment, and a hectic blush danced over his pale cheeks now.

Harry stroked a hand gently through Tom's hair. "How does it feel, Tom?" His voice was a whisper.

"Strange. Lovely..." Tom's breath was warm against his lips. "I never thought I would like to... to surrender, like this."

Harry felt his heart hammering in his chest. He moved softly against his lover, and he could feel a strange tenderness tearing at his heart. "First time, Tom? Like this, I mean?"

Tom buried his face in the crook of Harry's neck and whispered against his skin: "Yes."

...

Afterwards they slept, so entangled in one another that each slight movement became indistinguishable from the other's. Harry didn't wake up until he sensed a sudden absence, and he reached sleepily for the warmth that was Tom.

A soft kiss pressed against his forehead. "Sleep for a little bit longer, love. I have a few things to arrange. I will wake you up in a little bit."

Harry moaned out a protest, but Tom wrapped the blankets more tightly around him and kissed him again. "It won't take long."

Harry buried his head in Tom's pillow and breathed in the comfort of the scent that still lingered there as he drifted off to sleep again.

...

"All ready for you now, love." The sunlight was bright and golden against the windowpanes when Harry woke up to the sound of Tom's voice.

"I'm ready for _you._ This time, you get to ravish _me._" Harry reached out for Tom, but Tom pulled away with a laugh.

"In a while, love. But first, come and meet you parents."

"My parents?" Harry sat up in bed with a start, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

"And your godfather as well." Tom's silver eyes shone. "Everything went rather well. I didn't wipe their memories or anything, of course, since I couldn't risk them not remembering you." A sudden flush crept across his face. "But it might be as well, perhaps, if you don't tell them who I am right away. It may take your parents a little time to get used to... Well, you know..."

"To the idea that their murderer is their child's lover?" Harry grinned. "Yes, we should probably let them get to know you a little first, before we tell them about that, Tom."

**...**

The golden September light slanted through the tall arched windows of the drawing room and fell softly over thee figures who were standing by the fireplace.

Harry drew his breath sharply. His mother was even more beautiful than he had imagined. The warm light that fell over her flaming curls made her hair seem almost incandescent, and her brilliant green eyes glittered. And his father... Harry knew that dark messy hair and that lopsided smile well from his own reflection in the mirror. His eyes were different from Harry's, of course, but the glint in them more than familiar. And then there was Sirius, looking just as he had the moment before he fell through the veil, with his dark curls dancing around his shoulders and his grey eyes full of life.

The three of them turned towards the door as Harry and Tom entered, and the slightly bewildered expressions they had worn a moment before vanished.

"Harry!" Sirius was the first to move, and the first one to gather Harry up in his arms. "You are all right, then? Merlin, it's good to see you again! You've grown!"

The next moment, impatient arms pushed Sirius out of the way.

"Move over Sirius, we can't see him properly behind all your hair..."

Gentle hands found Harry's face and stroked wonderingly over his skin.

"Oh, Merlin..." James' hazel eyes filled with tears as he gazed at Harry. "It's really you, Harry! He... he still looks like me, doesn't he? Just like he did when he was a baby? And he still has your eyes, Lily. Harry... It's really you?" He threw his arms around Harry and squeezed him hard.

"Harry?" Lily's voice was a whisper. "I still can't quite believe that all of this is real, that I get to see you again... " She stroked Harry's hair with a trembling hand and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Look at you, you are no longer a baby, but a young man. Have you been well, my love? Has Severus looked after you well?"

James let out a harsh chuckle. "Snivellus? Not bloody likely! I suppose you have been staying with Sirius and Remus all this time, Harry? Have they trained you to be a little marauder, hm? Is Remus the one who figured out how to bring us all back?"

Harry turned to Sirius. "You didn't tell them yet? About everything that's happened since they died?"

Sirius shook his head. "Didn't get a chance, Harry. I was looking for James and Lily after I fell through the veil, of course, but that other world... Well, it's hard to describe. It's... No, the words seem to slip away when I try to describe it. Suffice it to say that I just met James and Lily again a few moments ago, and I haven't had a chance to tell them about your life yet."

Lily clutched Harry's hand, hard. "We want to know everything, of course." She stroked Harry's face, again and again. "Begin with the beginning, love. Who became your guardian after your father and I died? Severus or Sirius or Remus?"

Harry leaned contentedly into her touch. "I have a feeling you are not going to like this, Mum."

Lily's green eyes widened in fear. "What? Harry, what happened to you?"

It was Tom who spoke. "Professor Dumbledore," he said quietly, "decided to leave Harry with your sister and her family after your death."

"_What?_" Lily stared at him. "You can't be serious! With _Petunia?_ And Vernon? No, not even Dumbledore could have done something like that!"

"He did," said Harry quietly. "He left me with Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon until... well, until I escaped from them last summer and came here to be with Tom."

"But that's... that's... _preposterous_!" James was sputtering now. "Petunia and Vernon? They are the most ridiculously unpleasant people! They wouldn't have loved you, even!"

"They were beating and starving him, actually," said Tom softly.

"They..._ what?_" Lily's face was whiter than ashes.

"WHERE'S MY WAND?" James roared. He looked around wildly. "Or anyone's wand for that matter... Or I suppose a sharp rock will do. Come on, Sirius, Lily... Oh, well, maybe not you, Lily. She is your sister by blood, after all, so you may not want to witness her murder in person. I'll describe it to you afterwards if you want."

"You... you are going to _kill_ the Dursleys?" Harry stared at his irate father. "I... I would rather you didn't, actually. I don't want you to be arrested for murder right after I've met you. I've had enough of people being sent to Azkaban."

"Good point, Harry," said Lily softly and kissed him on the head. "I think you can leave Petunia and her brute of a husband to _me_, James. I have quite a few things to say to my sister..." There was a dangerous gleam in her emerald eyes.

"Don't forget Dumbledore," put in Tom helpfully. "It was his idea, after all, to leave Harry with _them._"

Lily turned to Sirius. "But I don't understand, Sirius. How in Merlin's name could you let this happen? You were still here for a while after we died, weren't you? Why didn't you snatch Harry from my sister's house? How could you let him grow up _there_?"

Sirius sighed. "Oh, trust me Lily, I would have taken him away from there in a heartbeat, but I was... unavoidably detained..."

"Detained?" Lily's eyes flashed. "What could have been more important to you than Harry's well-being? _Where_, may I ask, were you detained?"

"Azkaban," said Sirius with a slight shudder. "Thirteen years. I was framed on the night you and James died. They thought I was the one who had betrayed you to Voldemort."

"What the _hell_?" James sank down into a nearby chair and stared at Sirius. "They thought _you_ betrayed us? But that's... that's the most idiotic thing I've ever heard. You're my best friend! And they stuck you in _Azkaban_ for betraying us?"

"Right." Sirius nodded. "Rather unpleasant place, Azkaban." He shivered. "I didn't meet Harry again until I escaped thirteen years later. That's when I discovered who the real traitor was. Peter of course, that little rat!"

"Peter?" Lily looked pale.

Sirius nodded grimly. "That's right. I wanted to kill him, but Harry felt sorry for the worm, so I didn't. I wanted to let Harry stay with me, of course, but I was still running from the "law" when I got blasted by a death eater two years later. My own cousin, too, will you believe it? Bellatrix... No wonder I never liked her much."

Lily covered her face with her hands. "But this is all _horrible, _Sirius! How could Dumbledore let any of this happen?"

"Actually," said Tom gently, "Harry and I just discovered that Dumbledore has some rather chilling plans for Harry's future. He discovered that... er... Voldemort... accidentally made Harry into a horcrux the night you were killed. In other words, a part of The Dark Lord's soul is embedded in Harry. Dumbledore was planning to get Harry and Voldemort to kill each other, so that the Dark Lord would be finished once and for all."

Lily rose to her feet. "Dumbledore... was planning to _sacrifice_ my child in order to destroy The Dark Lord?" She was looking positively dangerous now.

"_What_? Harry's a horcrux? And Dumbledore was planning to-? I didn't know any of this! Are you sure of this, er..." Sirius hesitated and glanced at Tom. "Now, who are you, again?"

A slight flush brushed over Tom's cheeks now. "Just Tom. I'm a friend of Harry's."

Harry reached for his hand. "Tom is the one who brought you all back to me. But he is much more than a friend. He is my lover..."

A moment's stunned silence followed.

Lily, James, and Sirius exchanged bewildered glances. Then Lily said softly: "Your _lover?_ But, Harry... aren't you terribly young for that sort of thing, love?"

"I'm sixteen," said Harry quickly. "Which, according to wizarding law means that I can freely..."

"Right." Lily swallowed. "Of course. It's.. it's just so difficult to get used to the idea that you are no longer a child. The last time I saw you, you were just a baby... But of course you are not a child any more. And it's not difficult to see that you and Tom are in love; your eyes shine every time you look at each other. It's very sweet, actually..." She smiled a little and gave Tom and Harry both a quick hug.

"What?" James still seemed dazed. "But.. But Lily, what are you doing? Oh, don't tell me that you _approve_ of this?"

Lily eyed James coldly. "Why wouldn't I approve of our child being in love, James?"

James ran his fingers through his dark hair, messing it up completely. "I don't mean _that, _of course. Of course we want him to be happy. But Lily, he's a _boy_... And that's another _boy_."

"Your point, James?" Lily's voice was distinctly frosty now.

James sighed deeply. "Now, I don't blame you, of course, Harry. You've been through a lot, and I'm sure that it's only natural that a boy growing up without a father to guide him develops all sorts of strange feelings..."

"_What_?" Lily glared at him.

James flushed. "Oh, that didn't come out right. Well, what I mean to say is... If Harry had grown up with a proper male role model, someone like Sirius, for example, he would probably have developed an interest in girls instead, don't you think?"

Lily covered her face with her hands. "James Potter, you are, without comparison, the greatest moron I've ever met. Our son, who has suffered terribly in our absence, has found love. He _really_ does not need to encounter this sort of antiquated prejudice from his own father."

James turned an even deeper shade of red. "But... I'm not prejudiced. In general, I mean. I'm sure Tom is a very nice boy and all. All I'm saying is that if Sirius had raised Harry instead..."

"James?" There was a hint of laughter in Sirius' voice. "How dense can you get, my friend?"

"Dense?" James blinked up at him. "What do you mean?"

Sirius chuckled. "Lily, do you want to explain to your husband about Remus and me, or shall I?"

Lily grinned. "You go right ahead, Sirius. I think James needs to hear it from you. I don't think he would believe me if I told him."

"Told me what?" James was looking completely baffled now.

Sirius sank down on the floor next to James' chair and put an arm around his shoulders. "James. We have known each other for a _very_ long time. Have you ever, in all those years, seen me go out with any girls?"

"Girls?" James looked confused. "Loads of times! Well, I mean, you didn't have a steady girlfriend, but you and Remus would go out every weekend, to the Three Broomsticks and other places like that, looking for girls. I remember that."

Sirius ruffled James' hair gently. "James? Remus and I weren't looking for girls. We thought you knew that."

"You weren't?" James frowned.

Sirius shook his head. "No, James. Remus and I were not going to the Three Broomsticks together to pick up girls. We were just going to The Three Broomsticks together."

"But why would you go out every weekend if you weren't looking..." James' voice trailed off. "Oh._ Oh._ Wait... But then... You and Remus? Really?" His eyes widened, and Harry felt an absurd desire to laugh.

"Really, James." Sirius grinned. "You are right, Lily, he's always been a little on the dense side, hasn't he? It's all right, James. People fall in love. Just like Remus and me, and just like Harry and Tom. That's part of life. And I, for one, couldn't be happier that Harry has found someone who loves him."

"Yes, I suppose..." James glanced up at Harry. "I'm sorry, Harry. I don't mean to be such an idiot about this - it's just going to take me a little time to adjust..."

"It's all right, James," said Sirius with a smile. "Remember how you used to talk about Harry's future when he was just a baby? You wanted him to grow up and marry a pretty red-haired girl and name his children James and Lily, didn't you?"

"Well, yes." James was smiling now. "I was thinking "James Sirius" for the oldest one, actually. It has a certain ring to it, don't you think?"

Sirius laughed and shook his head. "It's a nice thought, James, but Harry has to live his own life, not yours. I know you want him to marry and live happily ever after, just like you and Lily, but you have to accept-"

Lily coughed, and James flushed.

"What?" It was Sirius' turn to look baffled now.

"Well, about Lily and me..." James studied the carpet intensely.

"Not now, James," said Lily softly and reached for Harry's hand. "Harry just got his parents back; I'm not sure he is ready to deal with something like this right away. Give him some time first."

"Deal with what?" Harry looked at his mother in alarm. "What is it? Is something wrong? Are you not feeling well? Do you not feel like yourselves after coming back-?" His glance flickered anxiously to Tom.

"No, no, love, nothing like that. Everything will be perfectly all right," said Lily quickly. "It's just that... well, your father and I spent a great deal of time with each other, in a manner of speaking, in the other world, and... Well, since we died together, we found ourselves together on the other side, too. In the beginning, it was a great comfort, being so close to another person and sensing each other's inmost thoughts, but after a while, those thoughts became...well, a little _grating_..."

"You mother," said James to Harry with a little sigh, "apparently still wishes, deep down, that she had married someone with greasier hair."

"And your father," said Lily frostily, also speaking directly to Harry, "still regrets not going all the way with a certain attractive barmaid."

"What?" Harry stared at them. "What are you doing? Mum? Dad? What are you bickering like this for?"

Lily sighed. "I am so terribly sorry, love. I wish things had been different, especially at a time like this, when we finally get to see _you_ again. Your father and I both love you dearly, and we will both do anything in the world for you. But the things is..."

James Potter ruffled Harry's hair gently. "The thing is, Harry..." He put his arm around Harry's shoulder. "Your mother and I will be getting a divorce."

"You _what-?"_

"But we will both be here for you, love," said Lily softly and hugged Harry. "And we will both work together to set things right for you. We will have to do something about my sister and her husband, and about Dumbledore, of course. Let's gather some of our old friends and sort out what to do. Let's get Minerva and Remus and Severus and... "

"How is Remus, Harry?" asked Sirius softly.

Harry smiled. "Good. I think he will be _very_ pleased to see you, actually. I.. well, I've always known that he loved you, of course, even if I didn't know that you were lovers."

"And Severus?" Lily's voice has a strange note of tenderness in it.

"Erm..." Harry cleared his throat awkwardly. "Still teaching at Hogwarts. He's teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts this year."

James and Sirius burst out laughing.

"_Defense_ Against the Dark Arts? No _way!_" gasped James. "Oh, let's go and see him, Sirius! _Professor_ Snape - I can't wait!"

"Oh, will you _stop_ it, James!" Lily was looking distinctly annoyed. "You and Sirius are _not_ going to torment poor Severus again!"

"Us?" James looked terribly innocent.

"Wouldn't dream of it," Sirius grinned broadly, and James laughed.

"But seriously, Lily," said James quickly, "can you imagine those poor students at Hogwarts, being taught by _him_? Wait... Oh, no, Harry, don't tell me that he's been _your_ teacher as well!"

Harry nodded. "Yes, he has. First potions, and now Defense Against the Dark Arts. He likes to give me detentions."

James' face clouded over. "Of course he does, the greasy bastard! Probably trying to find a way to get back at Sirius and me through you, I shouldn't wonder! Does he dock you a lot of points?"

Harry smiled. "Five hundred so far this week."

James' face broke into a wide grin. "You lost five _hundred_ points in a week? That's my little Marauder! What did you do, Harry? Must have been something good!"

Harry flushed. "Well, Tom and I... We sort of stole some veritaserum from Snape and put it in the teachers' drinks and breakfast."

James and Sirius laughed uproariously.

"Excellent, Harry!" James thumped him on the back. "That's my boy! And you were in on this too, Tom? You know, Harry, I'm beginning to warm up to your friend."

Sirius's grey eyes were glittering now. "Please, _please_ tell me what Snivellus said under Veritaserum! Please, Harry!"

"Well... " Harry smiled to himself. "He said that I was an annoying brat..."

"_What_!" Lily sounded shocked, but Sirius and James nodded. "Of course he did!" muttered James. "He's jealous of your talents and your good looks, more likely than not."

"... but he also said that he would die for me if necessary, for my mother's sake," finished Harry softly.

"He said _that_?" Lily's voice was a whisper.

James and Sirius glanced at each other and shook their heads.

"_Still_ obsessed with Lily, huh?" James muttered. "After all these years? It's not natural, I'm telling you..."

Lily smiled. "I think," she said softly, "that we all need to pay a visit to Hogwarts, James. Oh, won't Albus Dumbledore be _pleased_ to see us!"


	11. Connections

**~Surrender~**

**Rating: M** for slash (homoerotic relationship)

**Warning:** This is a Harry Potter/Voldemort romance set during Harry's sixth year at Hogwarts. Read at your own risk.

**Author's Note: **I'm back and ready for regular updates again! Sorry to keep you waiting. I did complete a 50,000 word draft of an original fantasy novel during the month of November, and I'm fairly happy with how it turned out. It's far from finished, though, and it's going to need about a year's worth of editing before I can let anyone read it. Thanks for all the encouraging remarks and messages during the past month!

...

Petunia Dursley's mornings were always perfect.

She would get up at half past six as her alarm clock began to play soft nondescript classical music untraceable to any particular composers. Then she would take a quick shower in her gleaming newly remodeled bathroom. She was very pleased with how the new Tuscan tiles in the shower turned out; everyone who had seen them agreed that they were stunning. Then Petunia would get dressed and do her hair and apply her discreet make-up before laying out fresh fluffy towels for her husband's shower. The thick towels in lovely shades of oyster and cream had been rather costly, but they matched the colors of the tiles so perfectly that it still made Petunia happy every time she looked at them. Then, while her husband warbled old off-key show tunes in the shower, Petunia would proceed downstairs to her impeccable kitchen and prepare an exquisite breakfast for him. The night before, she would mark the pages in the cookbook and prepare anything that could be made in advance, such as the pâte brisée for the rustic breakfast tartelettes with ham and eggs that Vernon loved so much.

People often marveled at Vernon's descriptions of the lavish breakfasts his wife would serve him in the mornings, and they wondered how anyone could possibly find the time to prepare such complicated delicacies on rushed weekday mornings. But Petunia knew that the secret to perfection was simply being prepared in advance.

Petunia was always prepared. She had ingredients on hand to whip up delicate hors d'oeuvres on a moment's notice, should Vernon ever invite a business acquaintance home on a whim, and she always had a few steaks in marinade just in case. When dear Dudley was home from boarding school, she would have casseroles and cakes ready for his little friends when they dropped by, and she even knew what to feed the picky ones, like that Polkiss boy. Mrs. Dursley, Piers Polkiss had once said, was the only one who knew how to make triple chocolate cake _perfectly. _Not too dense, not too fluffy - just _perfect. _And she always had a slice ready exactly when you wanted some.

Petunia had smiled when sweet little Piers had said that, but she knew that he was right; she really _did _know how to do things perfectly, because she was always _prepared_.

But even Petunia Dursley was not prepared for the sight that greeted her when she entered her flawless lemon-scented kitchen on this particular morning.

The kitchen should have been empty at this hour, but it wasn't. There were four people already sitting around the breakfast table, and _three of them were dead._

Petunia stood frozen in the doorway and stared at them, her mouth open, as if forming a silent scream.

Her dead sister Lily. Lily's equally dead husband. That escaped wild-haired murderer from TV who had been Harry's godfather, the one who had died last year. And Harry himself, hair sticking up as always, sitting in Vernon's chair and eating last night's carefully prepared pancake batter with a spoon. An unfamiliar dark-haired boy with curls was rummaging through the fridge, pulling out leftover chocolate cake.

"Hello, Petunia." Mrs. Dursley's dead sister rose to her feet, a strange glitter in her emerald eyes. "Why so pale? Didn't expect to see me again, did you? Harry just showed us the tiny cupboard where you kept him locked up for years like... like a condemned prisoner." Lily's voice trembled. "You cruel, heartless _bitch!"_ she whispered. "How _could_ you do this to a _child,_ Petunia? I always knew you were desperately jealous of me, but I never imagined you to be _evil... _I swear I will make you pay for this if it's the last thing I do." She stepped closer to her sister, her green eyes flashing.

Petunia Dursley screamed and fell to the floor in a dead faint.

"What? What's happening?" An enormous man with a mustache, dressed in a bathrobe, came huffing into the kitchen. "Petunia? Are you all right? Are there burglars? I thought we had left the alarm on-" He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the small crowd gathered in the kitchen.

"But that's... that's..." He blinked slowly at Lily and James Potter. "But I _recognize _you... You are..." He sank to his knees next to the unconscious form of his wife. "But you are _dead... _This is not... not normal..." His voice trailed off and he began shivering uncontrollably, his face whiter than snow.

"Dead? Why, so will _you_ be in a moment!" James Potter got to his feet and reached for the wand that lay before him on the table. His normally pleasant face was flushed with anger. "But I will see you suffer first! You filthy abuser! You have been _beating_ my son? My little Harry? And starving and neglecting him?" The wand was shaking in his hand now. "Cru-_crucio!_"

Vernon Dursley closed his eyes and whimpered in fear. The people around the table appeared to be holding their breaths, perhaps waiting for screams of excruciating pain, but nothing happened. James Potter blinked down at the wand in his hand. "Oh, this wand is hopeless. Thanks for lending it to me, Tom, but this one doesn't seem to work for me. I wonder what happened to mine after I died?"

"After you... died," repeated Vernon tonelessly, gazing at James in horror.

"My turn!" said Sirius quickly, but Lily was faster.

"I can do it! Step aside, James." Lily Potter grabbed the wand from James' hand. She glared at the shivering man on the floor. "How _dare _you mistreat my poor innocent child, Vernon? _Crucio!_"

Vernon Dursley looked up at her, a terrified expression on his face, but he did not scream in pain; he merely whimpered loudly, as if suffering from a mild stomach ache. Petunia began stirring by his side now. Slowly, she opened her eyes, the look of terror on her husband's face reflected in her own as she gazed up at her furious sister.

Lily looked down at the wand in her hand, frowning. "Oh, for Merlin's sake - what's wrong with this wand? It doesn't seem to be working properly."

The boy with the dark curls put the chocolate cake down on the kitchen table and regarded her thoughtfully. "I don't think it's the wand, Mrs. Potter. With all due respect, I think it's _you_. Permit me to show you." He took the wand from Lily Potter's hand and pointed it calmly at Vernon Dursley. "It's quite simple, really. Watch this. _Crucio!_"

The next instant, the air was rent by horrifying screams, and Uncle Vernon was writhing on the floor in pain.

"And now you, Mrs. Dursley." Tom pointed the wand at Aunt Petunia and repeated the spell. More screams of agony filled the small kitchen now.

Lily grew pale. "Tunny? Oh, God! Oh, no. She's been horrible to Harry, but still..."

Harry tore the wand from Tom's hand. "_No!_ Oh, please stop it, Tom!"

"What? Why?" Tom shot him a baffled look. "I've never in my life met anyone who deserved it more. Oh, all _right, _if you insist, love." He sighed deeply, kissed Harry on the forehead and muttered something that sounded like _"__Gryffindors...". _Vernon and Petunia Dursley, finally silent now, crawled trembling against the wall and sat there staring wide-eyed at Tom.

"That," muttered James Potter, "was pretty impressive. Where did you learn to do that, Tom?"

"That was brilliant!" Sirius' grey eyes sparkled. "Very few wizards on our side can pull off a curse like that, let alone a _boy_. Were you ever a death eater or something, Tom?"

Tom flushed slightly and put the wand down on the table. "A death eater? Er... No. Not exactly." He held out his arm. "Look, no Dark Mark!"

Sirius grinned at him. "Relax, Tom. I was just making a joke. Of course we don't suspect you of being a dark wizard in spite of your _very _impressive use of Forbidden Curses; you walked through the wards that surround this house with us, didn't you?"

"Wards?" Lily looked confused. "What wards?"

"Oh, yes, the wards." Harry glanced around the kitchen. "I wonder what happened to those? Dumbledore explained it all to me a while ago. Because Aunt Petunia is related to you by blood, Mum, and because you gave your life to protect me, there is some sort of magic that protects me from... erm... Voldemort... while I'm staying here at Aunt Petunia's. I had forgotten all about that."

He looked at Tom in confusion.

"Perhaps," suggested Tom gently and reached for Harry's hand, "those wards ceased to be effective the moment your mother was no longer dead, love?"

"Perhaps," whispered Harry.

"_Anyway..." _Lily glared at Sirius. "I'm sure no one meant to accuse Tom of being a death eater, Harry. It is plain to see that he loves you, and besides: He's just a boy!"

Sirius shrugged. "Well, so was my brother, when he signed up. Reggie was only... what, seventeen?"

"Sixteen," said Tom quietly. He flushed when Sirius stared at him. "Or so I've heard. Erm, if you miss your brother a lot, I could always arrange to have him brought back, Mr. Black."

Lily sank down at the kitchen table. "About this bringing back the dead business, Tom... It was really _you_ who brought all of us back?"

"Mhmmm." Tom nodded and looked away. "I... wanted to make Harry happy, you see." He ran his hand quickly through Harry's unruly hair.

Uncle Vernon whispered something under his breath that sounded like "freaking zombies", and Tom pointed his own wand at him. "Silence, Muggle! The Cruciatus curse is not the only Forbidden Curse I have mastered to perfection. Would you like to find out about the others?"

Uncle Vernon's eyes widened, and he shook his head rapidly. "No, sir." His voice was a hoarse whisper.

Sirius glanced curiously at Tom. "You know more Forbidden Curses, do you? You are astonishingly good at magic for a young boy. For anyone, really. Who the hell _are _you, Tom? What's your last name?"

"My name is of no consequence," said Tom airly and took a bite of chocolate cake. His eyes widened. "Merlin, your aunt really _is _a good cook, Harry. If we decide not to kill your aunt and uncle today, we might consider keeping them as servants."

Lily giggled, and muttered: "Oh, I could just see Petunia and Vernon working in the kitchens of Hogwarts, like house-elves. _That_ would serve them right."

"Like house-elves?" Tom grinned broadly. "My, what a brilliant idea, Mrs. Potter!" He waved his wand and muttered a few words in a strange language. The next instant, two small house-elves were standing in the Dursleys' kitchen, shaking with fear. They were both dressed in ragged kitchen towels. The two house elves looked at one another in silent horror for a moment, and then they both screamed.

"Oh, be quiet." Tom pointed his wand at them again, and the two house elves fell silent. The smallest one was examining the dirty kitchen towel that was draped around her with an expression of deep disgust on her small wrinkled face, and her huge gooseberry eyes filled with tears.

Tom's silver eyes glittered. "Everyone, meet the newest Hogwarts house elves! They will stay in this form until... Let's see... Yes, they will stay in this form until _Mr. and Mrs. Potter_ decide that it's time for them to change back. Mr. and Mrs. Dursley's son won't know about his parents' transformation, unfortunately; he's apparently away at school. What should we call them? Does anyone have any good ideas for house elf names?"

"Let's see..." Lily looked thoughtfully at her sister and brother-in-law: "Oh my, they really are rather _adorable_ in this form. I think it's a great improvement. Look at Vernon's big fluffy ears! How about Tunny and... Verny? Nonny?"

James Potter nodded approvingly. "Nonny is good, Lily. I like it. As far as I recall, Vernon was always rubbish at cooking, but I suppose he could be in charge of peeling potatoes at Hogwarts or something. Or I suppose he could work for Mr. Filch, if that old bastard is still at Hogwarts. Surely, there must be some dragon barf to clean up somewhere in the school. Perhaps there will even be a nice _cupboard _somewhere for them to sleep in."

"Wait..." A slow smile spread over Tom's angelic face now. "I've got an even better idea. I don't think these two will get an _authentic_ house elf experience at Hogwarts; from what I understand, house elves are treated quite softly there these days. But I happen to know of an old traditional wizarding family who lost one of their house-elves a few years back, and I'm sure they would be delighted to accept two new ones. _They _would never be overly soft on their house elves, I can guarantee you that."

"What?" Harry's eyes narrowed. "No. You can't mean... No, Tom. Even _you_ wouldn't do that!"

"Oh, but I would." Tom smiled serenely. "Let's send them to the Malfoys, Harry! I'm sure that the Malfoys will treat them precisely as they deserve to be treated, and that _they_ will be precisely the sorts of servants the Malfoys deserve. I have _not _forgotten that I owe the Malfoys a little _favor._ This will be..." He smiled angelically at Aunt Petunia, "...just _perfect!_"

He snapped his fingers and muttered a few words, and the little house elf Harry had seen at the Riddle House suddenly appeared in front of them.

"Yes, Master?" The house elf bowed deeply in front of Tom.

Tom pointed at the two cowering house elves that had been Petunia and Vernon. "Winzy, I want you to bring these two house elves to Malfoy Manor, and tell Lucius that they are from me. Tell him that I trust that he will see to it that they are properly trained and appropriately punished for any laziness."

"Yes, sir!" Winzy bowed again, and the three house elves disappeared in a flash of green.

James Potter burst out laughing. "You sent them as house elves to _Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy_? But that's quite brilliant, Tom! You know, Harry, your friend is really beginning to grow on me. But won't the Malfoys be a little suspicious if two house elves show up out of nowhere?"

Tom shrugged. "Oh, don't worry about that. I've got... connections."

"_Do _you?" Sirius's eyes narrowed as he looked at Tom. "What sorts of connections, exactly?"

Lily turned to Tom. "Perhaps you can tell you a little more about your family, dear. When do we get to meet them?"

"My family?" Tom's grey eyes widened. "Er... It's kind of you to ask, Mrs. Potter, but I am an orphan. No family."

"No family?" Lily's emerald eyes softened as she looked at him. "That's terrible, Tom. But if you know enough magic to be able to bring people back from the _dead, _my dear, surely you are going to bring _them _back as well?"

Tom shook his head firmly. "No. Absolutely not. Long story, Mrs. Potter."

"You are bringing _us_ back, but not your own parents?" James Potter stared at him. "But that's... That's very odd, Tom."

"Oh, I don't know about that," said Sirius and helped himself thoughtfully to chocolate cake. "I wouldn't bring _my_ mother back for anything in the world! Wait, are you from one of the old pure-blood families too, Tom? That would explain a lot! Did you have a lot of death eaters in the family? Is that where you picked up on all that impressive dark magic?"

"Erm..." Tom was flushing now. "Not exactly..."

Lily regarded him thoughtfully. "You know, Tom, there is something almost familiar about you. I can't quite put my finger on it, but you remind me of someone."

"Really?" Tom poked his piece of cake, avoiding Lily's gaze.

The next moment, loud cracks were heard right outside, and the door to the kitchen was flung open wide. Two figures in cloaks appeared in the doorway. For a moment, they both stood there silently. Then one of them, a man, whispered: "Oh, Merlin! It really _is _true. It _was_ your patronus that came for us after all, Sirius! I didn't know if I dared believe-"

Remus Lupin crossed the room in a few rapid strides and flung his arms around Sirius. "It's really _you! _You are real, you are back... And James, too, and Lily! Oh, sweet Merlin, what miracle is this-?" Tears were flowing freely down his face now, and Sirius brushed them gently away with a trembling hand.

"Hush, Remus. It's all right, it's all right..."

But the other person who had arrived stood on the threshold, as still as if she were carved out of ice. For several long moments, she simply stood there, looking at the people assembled in the small kitchen. Then Minerva McGonagall raised her wand and pointed it at the curly-haired boy who was sitting at the kitchen table, holding Harry's hand, and whispered: "We meet again, at long last, _Lord Voldemort!_"


	12. An Unbreakable Vow

**~Surrender~**

**Rating: M** for slash (homoerotic relationship)

**Warning:** This is a Harry Potter/Voldemort romance set during Harry's sixth year at Hogwarts. Read at your own risk.

...

**Chapter 12: **

"No!" Harry flung himself in front of Tom, shielding him from McGonagall.

"Step aside, Harry," whispered McGonagall. Her wand was shaking in her hand. "For heaven's sake, get away from him! Harry, he's You-Know... I mean, he's _Voldemort! _He may not look like himself at the moment, but I know who he is. _Get away from him, Harry!"_

James, Lily, Sirius, and Remus glanced at each other in confusion.

"What... what are you talking about, Minerva?" Lily's voice was trembling. "That's not Voldemort, dear. That's Harry's boyfriend, Tom. Why are you saying that he is _Voldemort_? Has the shock of seeing us all again been too much for you, Minerva? I know that seeing the dead brought back to life must be a bit of a mental strain, and at your age..."

"At my age?" McGonagall exploded. "At my _age? _I'm fit as a fiddle, thank you _very_ much, Lily. Wait... Tom is Harry's _what_?" McGonagall blinked slowly. "But that's... that's absurd! Have you taken leave of your senses, Lily? I don't care what lies that monster has fed you - he is Voldemort himself! But yes, his name really is Tom; you are right about that - I would recognize the young _Tom Riddle_ anywhere! We went to school together, years ago. He hasn't changed a bit since he was seventeen. Step aside, Harry, so I can get a clear shot."

"No!" Harry looked McGonagall straight in the eye. "I love Tom, and he loves me. I will not allow anyone to harm him."

McGonagall stared at him, aghast. "You... you _love _him? Oh, you poor, deluded child! Do you not understand what I'm saying? He is _Voldemort_, no matter what he currently looks like!"

"I know," whispered Harry. "I know that he is Voldemort. But I still love him."

Tom sighed softly and pressed a kiss to the back of Harry's neck. "Love you too," he whispered.

"Harry?" Lily's face was whiter than snow. "What is going on, love? Tom is... No, he can't be. Can he?"

McGonagall rubbed her forehead and sighed deeply. "Harry, dear." Her voice was kind, although it had a slightly hysterical edge to it. "I know that you have been through a lot in your young life, and... and that it's only natural that everything you have gone through must have left you psychologically scarred, but _this... _Harry Potter is in love with _Voldemort?_ Oh, Godric's beard! This must be what the Muggles call "Stockholm Syndrome". Come with me, Harry dear, and we will find someone at St. Mungo's who will make you feel much better."

"Wait..." James Potter blinked at McGonagall in confusion. "First you are saying that Tom is Voldemort, and now you are saying he's _Swedish_?" He patted McGonagall gently on the arm. "Why don't you sit down and rest for a while, Minerva. Have a cup of tea, that will clear you head a little."

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, James!" McGonagall shot James an exasperated glance. "I am telling you that the man your child is in love with is a murderer - _your_ murderer, in fact - and your solution is to offer me _a cup of tea_? I'm terribly glad to see you again, of course, but coming back from the dead really hasn't improved your wits one bit." She frowned at Harry. "Wait, I thought you were dating Draco Malfoy, Harry? That was the rumor that was going around school last week... I thought _that_ was bad enough. But now you are dating Lord Voldemort instead? Sweet Merlin, this is getting from bad to worse, you poor child!"

"Draco Malfoy? Isn't that the name of Lucius and Narcissa's little son?" James Potter stared at McGonagall. "But that's preposterous! Harry, as your father, I absolutely forbid this! Dating a Malfoy!" He snorted.

Harry couldn't help smiling. "It's all right, Dad. I'm not dating Draco Malfoy."

"Good!" James lit up. "Just silly rumors, eh? Merlin, the things people make up sometimes!"

"Actually, that was Tom, Dad. The one everyone thought was Draco. You see, when Tom fell in love with me, he decided to come to school with me to make sure I was safe, so he attended Hogwarts as Draco."

"_What?"_ McGonagall almost dropped her wand. "Merlin's beard! Draco Malfoy is... Lord Voldemort himself? Well, that explains a _lot _about that child! I never trusted that boy in the first place, but I never imagined... Harry, what are you saying?"

"Wait..." James looked completely baffled now. "So Voldemort is _Lucius Malfoy's son_? That can't be right, Harry! I've heard some wild conspiracy theories in my time, but this one's just loopy. Even Xeno Lovegood couldn't have come up with something _that_ crazy. Why, Lucius is _my _age - how on earth could he have fathered Voldemort? Did he use a time turner or something?"

Lily buried her face in her hands and groaned. "Oh, for Merlin's sake, James!"

"I have a suggestion," put in Remus Lupin mildly. "Why don't we all sit down and listen to what Harry has to say?"

"Wonderful idea, love." Sirius beamed at him and ruffled his hair affectionately, but McGonagall sighed deeply.

"Sit down and listen? That's all well and good, Remus - but that boy is _Voldemort_, for Merlin's sake! He's going to kill Harry, and the rest of us too, if he gets a chance. He needs to be disarmed."

"All right." Harry stuck his hand in Tom's pocket and pulled out his wand. He placed the wand in the middle of the kitchen table. "There. I disarmed the Dark Lord." He kissed Tom softly on the lips. "It was a spectacular duel. Can we talk now?"

McGonagall eyed Tom warily. "Maybe he's got some other wands hidden somewhere. Better check, Harry."

"Happy to..." Harry brushed his hands over Tom, and Sirius muttered: "Oh, get a room, boys!"

"I don't think he's going to try and kill anyone, Minerva," said Lily softly. She had been studying Tom's face intently. "He's the one who brought James and Sirius and me back from the dead in the first place, you see. Why would he do that, only to attack us afterwards?" She picked up the wand from the kitchen table, and her green eyes widened. "This really _is_ Voldemort's wand, isn't it? I remember it well; it was one of the last things I saw before..." Her voice drifted off, and she fixed Tom with her emerald eyes. "You really _are _Voldemort, then, Tom? The Dark Lord?"

Tom flushed. "I... I used to be, Mrs. Potter. I know this may be difficult to believe, but I'm... sorry..." He squirmed uncomfortably under Lily's gaze.

"Sorry?" Minerva stared at him. "Tom Riddle is _sorry_. That _is _difficult to believe, Tom. A sudden change of heart, eh?

"Well, he did bring my parents back." Harry reached for Tom's hand. "And Cedric Diggory."

"Diggory?" McGonagall's eyes widened behind her spectacles. "The poor boy who died? Cedric Diggory is alive as well?"

Tom nodded. "He is with his parents, yes. Harry and I decided not to send him back to Hogwarts, since we weren't quite sure how Dumbledore would feel about bringing back the dead. He's terribly picky about these things, Dumbledore."

A slight snort, as of stifled laughter, escaped Minerva McGonagall. Her mouth quivered suspiciously at the corners. "I suppose he would be, now that you mention it."

"Tom?" Lily asked softy. "Do you really love Harry?"

"With all my heart and soul," breathed Tom and reached for Harry's hand.

"Riiiight." McGonagall snorted again, but it seemed to Harry that the glare she sent Tom was lacking a little in conviction now. Was she softening a little?

"Prove it, then!" Lily stepped up to Harry and Tom. "Are you ready to swear an unbreakable vow, Tom?"

"What sort of vow?" whispered Harry, but Tom nodded quickly. "Anything you want, Mrs. Potter. Well, _almost_ anything. I will _not_ give up Harry, no matter what. But I will promise to love and cherish and protect him for all eternity. As a matter of fact, I was going to do that anyway."

"Well, then!" Lily's eyes glittered. "Minerva, will you be our bonder?"

McGonagall studied Tom's face for a long moment, her lips pursed. Then she sighed. "I suppose I will, Lily. But only if you make Tom swear under oath not to kill or torture anyone in the future. Or ask anyone else to kill or torture on his behalf. Or even _suggest,_ orally, in writing, in code, via telepathy or by any other means, to anyone else that they kill or torture..."

"Not very trusting, is she?" muttered Tom in Harry's ear. "I'm telling you, she would have made a splendid death eater, Minerva, had she turned to the other side! Much cleverer than Wormtail!"

McGonagall glared at him. "I heard that, Tom! Now, join hands with Lily, will you?"

Tom glanced quickly at Lily and reached for her hand.

"Now, Tom, do you promise Lily to love and cherish and protect her son Harry?" said McGonagall softly.

Tom met Lily's glance. "I do. For ever. I will never let any harm come to him, and I will give him anything he wants. I will do everything in my power to make him happy."

"And you will commit neither murder, torture, nor any act of evil in the future?" McGonagall looked sternly at Tom.

"Well..." Tom hesitated for a moment. "Not unless someone _really _deserves..."

"Tom!" Lily glared at him.

Tom sighed. "Oh, all right. But what about Dumbledore? Can't we work in a small exception here? He meant for Harry and me to kill each other, you know."

"The boy has a point, Lily..." began McGonagall, but Lily shook her head firmly. "Not even Dumbledore, Tom. We will find another way of dealing with him. You can leave that to me."

"All right..." Tom sounded slightly reluctant. "If you insist. But I _am _much more talented at the Cruciatus curse than you are, begging your pardon, Mrs. Potter."

"I insist," said Lily curtly. "Anything else?" She glanced at James, Remus and Sirius. They shook their heads slowly.

"Well, then!" McGonagall raised her wand and muttered an incantation. Golden flames sprang up around Tom's and Lily's hands, and the flames twisted around their hands like a flaming rope. Harry held his breath as the incandescent flames of magic burned, impossibly brightly, in aunt Petunia's spotless kitchen.

...

"Do you _have _to look like the Malfoy kid?" James cast Tom a sideways glance as they stood outside the Hogwarts gates at dusk. "It's rather disturbing, seeing you holding hands with Harry when you look like the spitting image of Lucius at sixteen."

"Staying in disguise might be wise, Mr. Potter. If Minerva's reaction earlier was anything to go by, people still remember Tom Riddle's face rather vividly around here. What if we run into Horace Slughorn, or Professor Binns?"

"Binns? Like he would notice!" muttered James. "Say, Harry, did you ever come across an interesting map that Sirius and Remus and I used to have? It had everyone's names on it. I'd be rather curious to see if the map still knows who we are. Vernon referring to us as "freaking zombies" made me feel a little nervous."

"The Marauders' Map?" Harry grinned up at his father. "Yes, I've got in right here, in my pocket. It's come in really handy over the years... Oh, look - the map still recognizes all of you!" He pointed to a small cluster of dots on the parchment. "There we are! James Potter, Harry Potter, Minerva McGonagall, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Lily... Evans?"

"Merlin, that map is quick at sorting things out," muttered James. "Lily and I just agreed that this marriage wasn't working out, but the Map is already in the know... I wonder what it calls Tom? What do you call a repentant Dark Lord with the appearance of a Malfoy?_ I-Bet-You-Don't-Know-Who?" _ James bent over the map. "Oh. Just "Tom Riddle", apparently."

"Tom Riddle?" Harry glanced eagerly down at the map. "Yes, you are right. _Tom Riddle. _Not Voldemort... I wonder when his name changed on the map?"

"I'm no longer Voldemort?" Tom reached for the map. His grey eyes widened. "You are right... Just "Tom Riddle". This is probably all _your _doing, my love. The way you say the name "Tom" is pure magic. How could I _not_ become Tom again when you whisper my name in that maddening way?" He kissed Harry lightly on the head.

Minerva McGonagall smiled and shook her head slightly. "Ahem. So _Tom _is all ready to enter the school, looking like a Hogwarts student, but what about the rest of you? Are you planning to waltz through the corridors of Hogwarts, giving the old professors a heart attack?"

James and Sirius exchanged a delighted glance, but Lily shook her head. "Of course not, Minerva. While we were up in London getting new wands from Ollivander's, I took the liberty of securing a few hairs from passing teenagers." She held out a few strands of hair. "Tom got us some polyjuice potion and some robes. We will fit right in." She looked slightly worried for a moment. "I _do_ hope Mr. Ollivander will be all right, though. He did look a little shaken even after Tom had wiped his memory. Poor man..."

Tom reached into his robes and pulled out some vials filled with glittering liquid. Lily added a strand of hair to each vial, and Sirius, Remus, and James each took one. They drank the contents of their vials quickly, grimacing as they did so. Lily choked hers down as well.

A moment after, four unfamiliar teenagers were standing in front of the Hogwarts gates.

Harry smiled as he looked at the four of them. Lily had chosen well; James was still a boy with unruly dark hair, but his face was slightly different. Sirius still had black hair, but it was shorter and spikier. Remus had light brown hair and blue eyes, while Lily had shoulder-length red curls.

"I took the hairs from people who looked a little like us. We still look a little bit like ourselves," explained Lily, "but just enough so that _we_ will remember who is who. No one will be able to recognize us."

They put their robes on hastily - all Gryffindors - and Minerva McGonagall waved her wand at the tall iron gates. The gates creaked open before them.

"Welcome back to Hogwarts, Mom and Dad," whispered Harry. "And you too, Sirius and Remus... You have no idea how often I have imagined you here with me..."

McGonagall regarded the four new Gryffindors with a smile. "I know that you have a few things to set right here at Hogwarts, but perhaps you may consider staying for a little while. Since I am the keeper of the magical school records, I can easily add the names of four new students. You will have to be re-sorted, of course, but I think the Sorting Hat will find that rather amusing. And I do have two personal favors to ask you. First, please don't hesitate to give the headmaster the shock of a lifetime. He has deserved it. And second... Well, Gryffindor's first Quidditch match against Slytherin is tomorrow. Harry is the captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, and I do realize that he has been rather too busy lately to put together a proper team. But I seem to recall that Mr. Black, Mr. Lupin, and Mr. Potter, in spite of their other flaws, were fairly decent players back in their day; quite a bit better, in fact, than any of the pitiful Gryffindors currently playing the noble magical sport. It really would be a shame to waste this opportunity, Harry. If the Sorting Hat sorts them all back into Gryffindor, there is nothing in the school rules that would prevent them from playing..."

Sirius' and James' faces split into wide grins, and a wistful smile brushed over Remus' face as well.

"A Quidditch match, you say?" muttered James.

"Against Slytherin?" whispered Sirius. "Oh, this should be good!"

Harry glanced curiously at McGonagall. Was she..._grinning? _

Minerva McGonagall waved her wand in the air, and four pieces of parchment floated towards them through the darkening evening air. "Your schedules, everyone."

Lily reached out for her piece of parchment and scanned it quickly. "Oh, look!" she breathed. "The first class tomorrow morning is Defense Against the Dark Arts. With _Severus._"

"My favorite class!" said Tom lightly, and Sirius giggled.

There was a wicked glint in James' eyes. "You know what, Tom? I'm pretty sure it's going to be _my_ favorite class as well..."


	13. The Silver Doe

**~Surrender~**

**Rating: M** for slash (homoerotic relationship)

**Warning:** This is a Harry Potter/Voldemort romance set during Harry's sixth year at Hogwarts. Read at your own risk.

**Author's Note:** Sorry about the long wait! Holidays, merriment, etc.

...

**Chapter 13**

**...**

It was not the first time James and Lily had spent the evening in the Gryffindor common room with Harry; they had been with him here often enough through the years. But this was the first time they were real.

Hogwarts had always been an enchanted realm in Harry's mind, not just because its staircases moved and its portraits spoke, but because the parents he had never known had spent years of their lives here. James must have stumbled, laughing, over that trick step on the stairs when he was in a rush, and the stern gaze of the Fat Lady must once have softened as it lingered on Lily's kind face.

Harry had often imagined his parents here; he had seen them both so vividly in that shifting kaleidoscope of dreams and longing and sorrow always turning in his heart. He had imagined his father curled up on the common room floor in front of the crackling fire, whispering something to Sirius about a wondrous map they were planning to make, his eyes shining with mischief. Harry had pictured James and Sirius flinging themselves down in the worn armchairs, breathless and triumphant, after a particularly brilliant Quidditch match. And he had seen, in his imagination, Lily sitting right there in the tall wingback chair by the faded unicorn tapestries, the light from the flickering candles casting a warm glow over her face. He liked to think of her speaking kindly to some nameless shadowy student by her side, comforting someone with her gentle words.

Harry had always loved the Gryffindor common room with its deep crimson chairs, its old arched windows and the tall ceiling, which some architect of Gothic days must have built while dreaming of the vault of heaven. This room was, in Harry's mind, the very center of Hogwarts, its warm ancient beating heart. It had always seemed to Harry that the lingering shadows of his parents were more real here, among the faded scarlet tapestries of the Gryffindor common room, than anywhere else. His parents had always seemed strangely present to Harry in this room, without their presence being clearly defined. His daydreams of his parents had created a curious suspension in time and space in his mind, and it had been so easy to imagine that they were _here_ with him, his invisible companions, simultaneously sixteen years old like him and much older and wiser. Harry had long sensed them here among the red and gold of the Gryffindor common room, not like ghosts or specters, but rather as a strange quivering in his heart that was a little more than a dream and a little less than a memory. They too had once spent their evenings here with their friends, and it seemed to Harry that their laughter still lingered here sometimes.

Harry liked to gaze into the fire of the common room and imagine that the flickering flames were a beacon, calling to the souls of his parents and all remembered Gryffindors from long ago: _Come back and sit with me a while. There is room for you here by the fire. Surely, you can feel the warmth that radiates from the fire now, from the very heart of this room. Your room and mine. Our room... _When Harry closed his eyes in the Gryffindor common room, he could almost imagine hearing his parents' voices and laughter floating towards him from the past.

But tonight they were _here, _no longer fleeting daydreams but real. Harry's gaze lingered, hungrily, on their faces. No, not quite _their _faces, thanks to the polyjuice potion, but somehow their faces nevertheless. They were _here_. His parents were here. Perhaps Voldemort really was the greatest wizard of all time, for the Dark Lord had effected a miraculous transubstantiation; he had made Harry's dreams become flesh. His parents had stepped out of the shadowy unreality that had claimed them all those years ago, and they were _here_, living and breathing, by Harry's side in the Gryffindor common room, as he introduced them and Remus and Sirius to his friends.

Harry watched breathlessly as Ron and Hermione and Neville and all the others were shaking Lily and James' hands and welcoming them to Gryffindor, as casually as if these were just some nice new students and not his parents secretly returned from the dead.

There was a slight flutter of confusion at first, of course - no one had expected four new Gryffindor students to show up in late September - but McGonagall's brief introduction had been brilliant. Without telling any outright lies, she had somehow managed to convey the impression that the four new arrivals were young wizards who had been homeschooled until their families' defiance of the Dark Lord had begun to attract too much attention from the death eaters. Professor McGonagall never said so in so many words, but somehow the other Gryffindor students had been left with the impression that the families of the four young wizards had decided to send their precious children to Hogwarts to keep them safe while the parents continued their heroic resistance against the Dark forces.

"The Dark Lord may be closer than anyone thinks," finished McGonagall briskly, without any discernible trace of irony in her voice. Harry smiled a little.

"Where _is _Tom, anyway?" breathed Lily in Harry's ear.

Harry whispered back: "Slytherin common room, dreaming up diabolical plots to torment Dumbledore in the days to come. He will come here later this evening when the others are asleep."

Lily glanced around the room. "I never thought I would see the Gryffindor common room again," she said softly, her voice trembling ever so slightly. "And to be here with _you..._" Tears glittered in her eyes when she looked at Harry, and she rested her hand gently on his arm for a moment. Then a sudden frown passed over her face.

"Oh..." She withdrew her hand quickly. "I don't think that girl over there likes it when I touch you, Harry. Did you see the expression on her face? Poor little thing, she is not in love with you, is she?"

Harry followed her gaze and saw Ginny curled up in the window seat. Ginny looked at him for a long moment, and the expression in her brown eyes made something twist painfully in Harry's heart.

"I suppose she might be," whispered Harry.

"Poor girl. Does she know about you and Tom? I mean... er...Draco?"

"I'm not sure." Harry could feel his cheeks growing hot. "I suppose I should have told her. I just... I just didn't know how. She's never _said _anything about liking me, you see; she just keeps looking at me. Like _that_."

"Maybe I should talk to her," said Lily softly. "She looks like she needs a friend, poor little thing. What's her name?"

"Ginny Weasley," muttered Harry. "She's my friend Ron's sister. I rescued her from... well, from Tom... when I was in second year, and it seems to have made an impression on her. Too much of an impression, I think."

"A Weasley?" Lily smiled. "I've always liked the Weasleys. Molly and Arthur were a bit older than us, of course, but James and I knew them from the Order of the Phoenix, back in the days when we were young and trusting and too foolish to see that Albus Dumbledore was a deranged maniac. I always wondered about that twinkle in his eyes, though, even then. This must be Molly and Arthur's daughter, I take it?"

Harry nodded silently, and Lily drifted discreetly off in Ginny's direction. Harry couldn't hear what they were saying, but it didn't take long before the two of them were chatting away like old friends. Somehow, their sudden friendship made Harry feel even more uncomfortable about Ginny than he had been before. What on earth was she telling his mother? Oh, sweet Merlin, was Ginny _crying _now? No, Lily managed to make her stop.

Harry turned his attention to his father, who was talking eagerly with Ron and Neville. Harry caught a few snippets of their conversation, something about a Quidditch match involving drunk hippogriffs. Sirius was interrupting him from time to time, and Ron was laughing helplessly at something that had been said.

And where was Remus? Over there, talking with Hermione about... the sixth year curriculum? A slight smile flitted over Remus' usually grave face as Hermione told him, very earnestly: "Unfortunately, we haven't had a really _good_ Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher since our third year."

"Is that so?" said Remus quietly. "What a pity."

James and Sirius turned around at that, and they sauntered casually over to Hermione and Remus, hands in their pockets. "So you don't care for the current Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, then?" asked Sirius lightly.

Hermione flushed slightly. "Oh, I didn't mean to criticize Professor Snape. He's a brilliant man, of course. Very knowledgeable. It's just that..."

"Professor Snape, did you say?" Lily and Ginny joined the group now. "I believe we have class with him in the morning. What was that you were saying about him?" asked Lily softly.

Hermione squirmed. "He's... well, Professor Snape is a rather stern teacher. He holds everyone to very high standards, and..."

"... and his boggart takes the form of shampoo," put in Ginny cheerfully. She was smiling again now, although there was still a slight tremor in her voice. "He is a creature of darkness and gloom that feeds on the fear of Gryffindor students. Rumor has it he is the unholy offspring of a dementor and an inferius."

Lily looked shocked, but James and Sirius burst out laughing. They stared at Ginny in absolute delight.

James turned to Harry. "Who is this charming creature, Harry? A friend of yours, I take it? Why don't you introduce me?"

"This is Ginny Weasley," muttered Harry, "and this is... er... Jim Prongs."

James took Ginny's hand in his. "Lovely to meet you, Ginny. Weasley, you say? I have heard of your family, of course - _wonderful_ people. Say, my friend... er... Cygnus," he nodded briefly at Sirius, "and I are going to slip out and play a little Quidditch in the morning. Perhaps you would like to watch us?"

Ginny studied him for a moment. Then she nodded slowly. "All right. But I'm not coming out just to watch. I'll play Quidditch with you. And just so you know, I'll probably beat you."

"You _play_ Quidditch?" James gazed at Ginny, an expression of rapture on his face. "_And _you have red hair."

Ginny frowned. "What does my hair have to do with anything?"

"Nothing," said James quickly. "I just happen to like red hair. A lot."

"Ginny is an excellent Quidditch player," said Harry quickly. "Even if she is only in _fifth year. _Which makes her _fifteen _years old... er... Jim."

"Well, I've got time," said James serenely, his glance lingering on Ginny's flaming hair. "Now, Ginny, you were saying about Professor Snape..."

...

"How was it, spending the evening with your parents and your godfather?" Tom kissed Harry softly. "Was it everything you wanted it to be, my love?"

Harry sighed contentedly and wrapped his arms around Tom. "It was perfect. I wish they could stay here at Hogwarts with me forever."

Tom buried his lips in Harry's hair. "Forever? I do think that would be a little much for poor Severus to handle."

...

"_Four _new students? Arriving after the beginning of the semester? How very... odd." Snape's black gaze lingered suspiciously on the four new students in the back.

"Isn't it?" Sirius beamed up at him, and James giggled by his side. Remus sighed and shook his head a little.

"And all four of you were promptly sorted into Gryffindor. How _very_ convenient." Snape's voice was icy. He consulted a piece of parchment in his hand. "Let's see. Jim Prongs. Cygnus Grey. Lionel Wolfe. Calla White." A slight frown passed over his pale features. "There is something about these names... Something almost familiar... No, I can't quite put my finger on it. But you can rest assured that I will watch the four of you _very_ closely." He frowned. "What are these extra lines suddenly appearing on the parchment? These weren't here before-? It appears to be sort of advertisement for... _shampoo_?"

Scattered giggles were heard around the class, and James and Sirius quickly assumed identical innocent expressions. Snape glared at them. "Professor McGonagall informed me that the four of you were homeschooled before arriving at Hogwarts, so I suppose it's rather pointless to assume that you know anything about the Dark Arts."

"The Dark Arts?" James looked up at him, an expression of slight surprise on his face. "Oh! And here I was, thinking that you were going to teach us _Defense Against _the Dark Arts, Professor! My fault. I didn't see you Dark Mark at first."

Snape stared at him coldly, adjusting his sleeve rapidly, although his sleeves went down to his wrists. "Another amusing little Gryffindor among us? Ten points from Gryffindor for your insolence, Mr. Prongs. _And _detention this evening." There was a dangerous gleam in his black eyes now.

"Oh, I don't think my friend meant to be insolent, Professor," said Sirius softly. His grey eyes glittered. "He probably just misspoke. He has a tendency to _turn things on their heads, _don't you Jim?"

"Some things look more interesting that way," said James lightly, and Sirius stifled a giggle.

"What are you talking about-?" There was a slight note of hesitation in Snape's voice.

"Oh, nothing." said James airily. "Are you really going to deduct points from Gryffindor for a simple mistake, Professor? I don't want to _snivel _about it, but..."

"Leave him _alone,_" hissed Lily. Her face was flushed with anger. "Seriously, can't you _ever_ just leave him alone?"

Snape froze. He stood completely still for a long moment, just staring at Lily, his face paler than snow.

"Are you all right, Professor?" asked Hermione softly.

"What?" Snape turned slowly and looked at her, uncomprehending.

"Are you ill, Professor?" Hermione got to her feet. "Do you need me to get the matron?"

"No." Snape shook his head slowly. "No, I'm all right, I'm just..." He looked oddly lost for a moment. Then he whispered. "It's nothing... No, I'm sure it's nothing... It can't..."

He passed a hand over his eyes for a moment. "Let's begin the lesson, shall we?" There was a slight tremor in his voice. "Please turn to the chapter on patronuses..."

A rustling of pages followed.

"Now, I don't expect many of you to be able to master this complicated spell, since it demands a certain mental focus that so many of you seem to lack. Who can tell me what exactly a patronus is?"

Two hands shot up simultaneously. As usual, Snape pretended not to notice Hermione. "No one? What a pity. Oh..." He caught sight of Lily's raised hand. "Miss... White?" He glanced down on the parchment in front of him. Then a slight flush brushed over his face. "Miss _Calla_ White? What an unusual name..." His dark gaze lingered on Lily's face.

"_Calla_ is the name of a lily," said Lily softly.

Snape stood quite still for a moment, staring at her. Then he nodded slowly. "Yes, I know..." His voice was a hoarse whisper.

"A patronus," said Lily, returning Snape's gaze, "is a visible manifestation of the truest and most powerful part of the soul. It takes the form of an animal that best represents a person's very being."

"That is correct," breathed Snape. There was a strange look in his dark eyes now. "That was a... good answer. Twenty... twenty points to Gryffindor."

A confused murmur ran through the class. Neville tugged frantically at Harry's sleeve. "Harry? _I don't think that's Professor Snape._ He just gave twenty points to Gryffindor! Maybe it's a death eater in disguise... I'll tell Ron and Seamus, and we'll all stun him together on the count of three, all right?"

Harry laughed. "It's all right, Neville. It really is Professor Snape, I promise."

Neville still looked worried. "Did someone cast an Imperius on him?"

Harry glanced at Snape, whose dark eyes were still lingering on Lily's face. "In a manner of speaking..."

"Do you know how to produce a patronus, then, Miss White?" Snape gazed intently at Lily.

Lily nodded. She pulled out her wand, and Snape drew his breath sharply.

"You wand... It's made of willow..." His voice was almost inaudible.

Lily smiled at him. "Yes," she said simply. "It is."

"Can you cast a patronus for me?" There was a strange note of pleading in Snape's voice. "Please. I have to know..."

"_Expecto Patronum,_" said Lily, her clear voice ringing through the classroom. A brilliant silver form sprang from her wand, and Snape sank to his knees as the glittering doe ran around the classroom. A sudden sob escaped him, and Lily turned to him, startled.

Tears were streaming down Snape's face now. "It's you..." he whispered. "It's really you, Lily. Oh, if this is a dream, please don't let it end..." He reached for his own wand, and his lips moved slightly. A second silver doe ran to meet the first. Lily stared at it, a slight flush on her cheeks now.

James looked at Snape's patronus and raised an eyebrow. "Another doe? Oh, I should have known, Severus. You just never give up, do you?"

Snape gazed at James for a long moment. Then he whispered: "It's all right, James. I know that she is still yours." A shadow fell over his face.

"Sometimes," said Lily gently, "things change, Severus..."

"What on earth is happening here?" whispered Hermione. "I don't understand..."

"But Dumbledore will, as soon as students begin to talk about Professor Snape's odd behavior in class." Tom got to his feet, wand in hand. "_Obliviate!" _He pointed his wand quickly at each student in turn, whispering the spell. Tom was so fast that no one understood what was happening until the spells were cast. "I think that was everyone, Harry, except our four new Gryffindor friends and Severus. Oh, and I skipped your friends Hermione and Ron as well - I want _you_ to make _that_ decision, love."

"It's all right," said Harry softly. "I think it's time for them to know, Tom."

Hermione stared at Tom, her eyes wide. "When did you learn how to cast a memory charm like that, Draco? And why does Harry call you "Tom"? And since when is your wand made of..." She broke off suddenly and reached for her own wand, but Harry said quickly. "It's all right, Hermione. He's _Tom, _not Voldemort."

"Draco's name is Tom?" Ron blinked slowly.

Harry pulled the Marauders' Map out of his pocket. "Look at this, Hermione. The map will show you the truth. See here, he is no longer Voldemort, but Tom Riddle. And he swore an unbreakable oath never to harm me."

Hermione stared at the map. "So he's not Draco... He's _Tom Riddle? _It's been _him, _all along, ever since the summer? But he is... no longer You-KNow-Who?"

Harry nodded. "That's right. And he brought back my parents, and Sirius as well. Look, you can see them on the map as well..."

Tom reached for Harry's hand. "All right everyone - time to find a more private place to talk. Ron, Hermione, James, Sirius, Remus... Where did Severus and Lily go?"

James shrugged and smiled ever so slightly. "They vanished. Apparently, they had some catching up to do. Fancy, him _still _being as smitten with her after all these years!" He shook his head slightly. "And fancy _her _actually _wanting_ to be with him. Oh, well, there's no accounting for taste, I suppose. At least Gryffindor came out ten points ahead."

"Room of Requirement," said Harry briefly and led his friends out of the classroom. "We have some things to talk about, Ron and Hermione."

"I don't understand any of this." Ron glanced uncertainly at James as they left the roomful of dazed sixth year students. "Can someone please tell me what's going on?"

"Don't worry." James grinned at him. "I'll explain it all to you. I think I've got it all sorted out now. Did you know that Lucius Malfoy is actually Voldemort's father?"


	14. Game Day

**~Surrender~**

**Rating: M** for slash (homoerotic relationship)

**Warning:** This is a Harry Potter/Voldemort romance set during Harry's sixth year at Hogwarts. Read at your own risk.

**Author's Note: **So sorry for the long delay! Too much work, and a muse suffering from the winter blahs.

**...**

**Chapter 14:**

**Game Day**

**...**

"So your parents and Sirius are _alive_?" Hermione whispered. "And Cedric Diggory as well?" She glanced in fascination at James and Sirius, who were bent over the Marauders' Map, studying Peeves' movements in the Professors' Lounge.

Harry nodded.

"And this was all... Tom Riddle's doing?" Hermione's glance flickered uncertainly to Tom. As soon as they were all safely inside the Room of Requirement, everyone had assumed their true form, and Tom was yet again a boy with dark curls.

"You don't quite trust me yet, do you, Hermione?" said Tom softly. "I know that all of this will take a while to get used to."

"Harry is _dating_ You-Know-Who." Ron rubbed his temples wearily. His face was still pale under his freckles. He gave a slight hollow laugh. "Yeah, that's... that's going to take a while to get used to. I had almost adjusted to the idea of Harry and Malfoy together, but _this... _Well, I mean, it's not like people didn't use to joke about it all the time, but still..."

"What do you mean, people used to joke about it?" There was a sharp note in Sirius' voice as he glanced up from the Marauders' Map, and Ron flushed bright red.

"It was just a _joke! _Seamus and Dean used to say that Harry was so obsessed with the Dark Lord they were surprised that he didn't start _dating_ him..."

Tom laughed. "Strangely enough, Bellatrix once accused _me_ of having an obsession with Harry that bordered on the unseemly. I told her at the time that she was being ridiculous, but..." He kissed Harry quickly on the lips. "Apparently, she was completely right."

"Ahem!" McGonagall glanced at them sternly over her glasses, but Harry could see that there was a little smile hovering at the corners of her mouth. "It's all right, Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley. I do believe that Tom is genuinely in love with Harry. The Unbreakable Oath he swore to Lily put my mind at ease. Unfortunately, it's going to take more than that to convince Professor Dumbledore of Tom Riddle's change of heart, I'm afraid. The headmaster made it quite clear while he was under the influence of the truth serum that would like to see both the Dark Lord and Harry dead."

A worried frown passed over Remus' face. "What _are _we going to do about Dumbledore, Minerva? I don't suppose there is much hope of talking some sense into him? I'd be happy to give it a try if you think there is a chance he may see reason."

"Talk some sense into him?" McGonagall snorted. "Don't be ridiculous, Remus! Dumbledore intended to _sacrifice_ an innocent sixteen-year-old, for heaven's sake! I think the headmaster is beyond talking to."

"Then what shall we do? We can't let any harm come to Harry." James' hazel eyes softened as he gazed at Harry. "Or Tom either, I suppose. Perhaps they both need to go into hiding somewhere. You'll want to live with me, I assume? Seeing that Lily's gone all soft for Sni- Severus, I mean? Just think about it: If Lily were to _marry _him, Severus will be Harry's stepfather, and nobody will want the poor boy to look at Severus over the breakfast table every morning, I'm sure. Harry's been through enough in his life already. It's bad enough that the headmaster wants him dead; he _really _shouldn't have to deal with seeing Snivellus kissing his mother in the morning."

"_Snape _will be Harry's stepfather?" Ron gazed at James in horror.

"And Dumbledore wants him dead..." whispered Hermione. "Please focus on the important part, Ron."

"I could have dealt with the headmaster _very_ easily," muttered Tom. "But my recent oath prevents me from doing the logical thing. I can't even suggest to anyone else that they assassinate him. In fact, right now I'm not _at all_ suggesting to any of you that Harry would be far safer if that deranged old maniac were dead."

McGonagall smiled. "I will do my best to keep an eye on the headmaster, Tom. I am not particularly fond of killing curses, but I do cast a rather nifty _Imperius, _if I may say so myself." She caught Hermione's startled glance and added quickly: "Not that I would _ever_ use any of the forbidden curses, of course."

"Couldn't you just transfigure Dumbledore into something?" suggested James. "You were always so good at transfiguration, Minerva. A lemon drop comes to mind..."

"We will see," said McGonagall briskly. "I do know one thing, though: It will _not_ do to underestimate the headmaster. He is a very cunning and ruthless man- Who's there?" She turned quickly to the door. "Oh, it's just Lily and Severus. Come in both of you - we were just trying to make a plan... Good heavens, Severus, what happened to you?"

Harry glanced at the man who had entered the Room of Requirement hand in hand with his mother, and his mouth fell open. Was that really Professor Snape? Yes, it must be, for the man had Snape's features and was wearing Snape's night-black robes, and yet he bore very little resemblance to the dreaded potions master. This man seemed almost handsome, with his shining dark eyes and that rather charming lopsided smile. When he spoke, his voice wasn't Snape's either; it was warm and melodious: "So this is where you all are."

"You have changed, Severus," said Tom softly.

Snape's left eyebrow arched in an expression of slight amusement. "So have you, my lord, if I may be permitted to say so. Lily told me everything." There was a curious note of softness in his voice as he spoke Lily's name.

"Did she?" Tom smiled. "Including, I suppose, how she made me swear an oath never to kill anyone again, or suggest to others that they kill anyone, which is why I am _not_ suggesting that anyone assassinate the headmaster, in spite of the fact that he wants to see both Harry and myself dead."

A slight shadow fell over Snape's face. "Ah, yes. The headmaster... Something tells me that he will not be terribly pleased to find the formerly dead walking the halls of Hogwarts."

"Can I see the stone, Tom?" said Lily. She leaned forward, and her long red curls fell in front of her face. Snape reached out and brushed the curls out of her face with a gentle movement that seemed so instinctive and natural that Harry had to smile. To his surprise, Snape smiled back.

Tom pulled the small cracked stone out of his pocket and handed it to Lily. He had taken the stone out of its setting, and the dark jewel gleamed softly against Lily's palm.

"This little stone is enough to overcome death..." breathed Lily.

"Not by itself, no." Tom put his arm around Harry. "Using the stone to bring back the dead requires some very difficult magic - so difficult, in fact, that Albus Dumbledore, who is a perfectly competent wizard in his own way, damaged his hand horribly when he tried to use the stone."

Harry peered at the little black stone. "I wonder who Dumbledore wanted to bring back from the dead. There must have been someone he loved..." Harry swallowed a sudden lump that had appeared in his throat. There had been a time when he had thought, naively, that the headmaster had loved _him..._

"Which spell did you use, Tom?" Hermione leaned forward.

Tom shrugged. "Oh, I don't think it will be familiar to you, Hermione. He rattled off a quick spell in a strange language. "That means..."

"Let the life breath, which has fled like the wind, re-enter the body of the one I hold dear," said Hermione quickly. "You are not the _only _one who knows Sumerian, you know." She sounded slightly offended. "I am familiar with the passage, of course. I just didn't know that it was a real spell."

Tom blinked rapidly. "I see... You do know a lot, don't you? I'm rather relieved that we are on the same side, Hermione." He pocketed the stone again quickly.

"Speaking of being on the same side," put in McGonagall briskly, glancing at her watch. "Need I remind you all that the Gryffindor-Slytherin Quidditch match is about to begin? Lily, you and I will keep an eye on Dumbledore during the match. Severus - you will be refereeing, I believe?"

Snape nodded. "That's right. I don't referee often, but this particular match interested me. Normally, Gryffindor wouldn't stand a chance against Slytherin, of course, but I understand that the Gryffindor team has a few new players."

James shot him a suspicious glance. "That's right, Sni- _Severus, _and you'd better _not _try to sabotage Gryffindor in any way, or I'll..."

"Sabotage Gryffindor?" Snape kissed Lily softly, and Ron covered his face with his hands. "I wouldn't dream of it. If Slytherin is beaten this afternoon, so be it. There are, after all, more important things in the world than Quidditch... Not that I believe for a moment that Gryffindor will have the slightest chance of winning, of course."

James, Sirius, and Remus exchanged quick glances. "Oh, we'll see about that!" said Sirius lightly, his grey eyes dancing.

"Well, what are we waiting for?" McGonagall sounded impatient. "This match should be spectacular! Harry Potter, James Potter, Sirius Black and Remus Lupin playing for Gryffindor! Oh, and you too, of course, Mr. Weasley." She grinned. "The Slytherin team won't know what hit it."

Snape smiled serenely. "Perhaps not. But you are forgetting one thing, Minerva..."

"What's that?" McGonagall wrapped her Gryffindor scarf tightly around her neck and headed for the door.

"The Gryffindor team may have added a few experienced players," said Snape softly, "but the Slytherin team has an outstanding Seeker this year."

McGonagall stared at him. "An outstanding Seeker? You can't be serious, Severus. Why, the Slytherin seeker is only Draco Malfoy, and that boy..." Her voice trailed off, and she looked at Tom in horror. "Wait, that boy is...

"... ready to play Quidditch!" Tom finished the sentence for her. His silver eyes glittered. He whispered a few words under his breath, and the next moment, he had assumed Draco's form. He held the door open for McGonagall. "In fact, I can't wait!"

Was it Harry's imagination, or did McGonagall suddenly look rather pale?

...

Under ordinary circumstances, the Quidditch match would have been over in ten minutes. The Gryffindor team was pure magic. James, Sirius, and Remus were superb Chasers; they moved with the easy speed and grace of the wild animals they were at heart. Harry had of course resumed his old position as Seeker. In what turned out to be a stroke of genius, Harry had decided to boot Jimmy Peakes and Ritchie Cootes off the team, and he had assigned Ginny Weasley and Demelza Robins to Peakes' and Cootes' earlier positions as Beaters. It was a bit of a risk, having two former Chasers play Beaters, but it worked out remarkably well. Demelza, who had always been slightly worried about being hit by rogue bludgers, turned out to be rather adept at hurling them at the opposing team, and Ginny was certainly not one to let anyone from the other team escape unscathed. In fact, thought Harry, she seemed to have it in for the flaxen-haired Slytherin Seeker in particular.

In spite of rather decent players like Urquhart and Vaisey, the Slytherin team wouldn't have stood a chance against the new Gryffindor team - if it hadn't been for the fact that the Slytherin Seeker was playing with a skill that seemed to border on the supernatural.

"Yet another stunning move from Gryffindor!" came McGonagall's enthusiastic brogue over the loud speaker. "Miss Weasley sends the bludger flying - it looks like it will hit the Slytherin Seeker in the head. No - it veered off to the side at the last moment. How terribly odd! Miss Weasley must have put a bit of spin on that bludger, it seems. Wait, wait! Miss Weasley is complaining to the referee. Is something wrong with the bludger? No, Professor Snape has declared that there is no evidence of foul play; the match will continue. Oh, dear, Miss Weasley is not going to argue with the referee, is she? The two Seekers are taking off - have they seen the snitch? The Slytherin Seeker is remarkably fast... But Mr. Potter is in hot pursuit. They have seen the snitch! _They have seen the snitch!_" McGonagall's voice rose to a fevered pitch. "They are both reaching for... Oh, dear - there comes another bludger from Miss Weasley! Good gracious me! It's shattered the Slytherin Seeker's broom! He's going to fall, he's going... No, wait. The Slytherin Seeker is... _still flying? _How is that even possible, with half his broom gone? I've never seen anything like it!"

Harry could hear the shouts and cheers from the crowd below rising towards him and Tom as they sped towards the little blur of gold. He leaned forward on his broomstick, trying to force even more speed out of it. From somewhere behind him, he could hear his father's voice: "Get it, Harry! Get the snitch!" Harry could sense Tom by his side, so close that he could feel the heat from his body.

Harry's fingers closed around the fluttering snitch - and so did Tom's. The two Seekers locked eyes.

"Let go of the snitch, Harry!" There was laughter is Tom's silver eyes. "You are a fantastic player, but you know that I am a great deal stronger than you."

Harry tightened his grip on the snitch. "No, you are not."

Tom's eyes narrowed. "Let go, Harry!" His voice sank to a seductive whisper. "Let go, my love..."

"_You_ let go!" Harry felt a pleasant tingling at his spine at the sound of Tom' voice, but he was _not_ going to let go of the snitch.

"What in Merlin's name is going on?" McGonagall's voice, over the speaker, grew more agitated. "Can it be-? Yes! Both Seekers have caught the snitch _at the same time!_ In all my years, I have never seen anything like it!"

A shrill whistle sounded, and Tom and Harry descended slowly to the ground, their right hands still clasped firmly around the fluttering golden ball.

A confused murmur rose from the crowd. "Who won? Which Seeker got the snitch first?"

"Stand aside, please!" Snape strode rapidly across the field, and the players stepped back to let him through. Snape paused in front of Tom and Harry, and his dark gaze lingered for a moment on their hands, interlaced around the snitch. A slight shadow of something that resembled a smile brushed over his face for a moment.

"Silence!" squeaked McGonagall, and a hush fell over the crowd. "The referee is about to make a call."

"Please give me the snitch," said Snape calmly, and Harry and Tom handed the little golden ball over and waited breathlessly.

Snape pulled his wand out of the pocket of his dark robes. "This appears, at first sight, to be a tie, but as you may know, snitches have flesh memory. The snitch itself should be able to tell us which Seeker's hand was the first to touch it." He muttered a quick spell, and Harry could see little luminous letters forming on the surface of the snitch. Snape stared at the letters for a moment, his face impassive. Then he said quietly: "The results are clear. For the first time in recorded Quidditch history, the two Seekers reached the snitch at _precisely the same moment._ The points awarded for catching the snitch will therefore be divided equally between the two teams: 75 points to Slytherin and 75 points to Gryffindor." Snape sighed deeply. "Since Gryffindor House had already scored six goals to Slytherin's zero..." He shook his head ruefully as he glanced at the three Gryffindor Chasers, "...Gryffindor wins the match 135 to 75."

McGonagall repeated the score, and the Gryffindor fans went wild. James, Sirius, and Remus flung their arms around Harry and yelled themselves hoarse. Even Snape smiled ever so slightly as he looked at the four of them. Tom shook hands with all the Gryffindor players, including Ron, who winced a little.

Snape bowed lightly to Tom. "Well played indeed, Mr. _Malfoy._"

Tom inclined his head gracefully. "Why, thank you, Professor."

Suddenly, Snape stiffened. His dark gaze seemed to search frantically in the gathered crowd of spectators. "Where is she?" His voice sounded hoarse. "Harry! Minerva! _Where is Lily?_"

McGonagall, who was still flushed with excitement from the game, wheeled around. "Lily? She is right over... Oh, Merlin. She _was _right over here, in the front row. I'm sure she is fine, Severus; she's probably just lost in the crowd for a moment..." Her voice was shaking a little. "We will find her in just a moment, you will see..."

"Mr. Harry Potter!" A small first year student was elbowing his way through the crowd. "I have an important message for Mr. Harry Potter!"

"It must be from _her..._" Snape grabbed the first year student by the shoulder. "What is your message, boy? Quickly, spit it out!"

The small student looked up at Snape with an expression of terror on his little freckled face. "It's... It's just from the headmaster, Professor Snape, sir."

"From the headmaster?" Snape's usually pale face turned ashen.

"That's right, sir," whispered the first-year. "The headmaster wishes to see Mr. Potter in his office right away. And he would like him to bring Mr..." The student consulted a piece of paper in his hand, "... and he wants him to bring Mr. Riddle as well."


	15. A Proposal

**~Surrender~**

**Rating: M** for slash (homoerotic relationship)

**Warning:** This is a Harry Potter/Voldemort romance set during Harry's sixth year at Hogwarts. Read at your own risk.

**...**

**Chapter 15:**

**...**

"The map!" James grabbed Harry's arm so hard that it hurt. "Find the map quickly, Harry - it may show us where Lily is."

"Map?" Snape's face, pale as ashes now, was blank with incomprehension. "What map?" The sun was sinking in gold behind the darkening trees now, and all things around them were gradually becoming invisible, fading into the evening shadows. But Snape's white face was still visible in the gathering twilight, and there was a dark panic in his eyes that Harry had never seen before.

"This map," whispered Harry and pulled the Marauders' Map from the pocket of his Quidditch robes. James dragged him quickly behind one of the Quidditch stands, and Snape, Sirius, and Remus hurried after them. A moment after, Tom had joined them as well.

Harry unfolded the Marauders' Map with trembling hands and scanned the yellowed parchment quickly in the light from his father's wand. He searched frantically for the little dot that bore his mother's name. "Where is she? I don't see her."

Sirius and Remus bent eagerly over the map as well. "Not in Dumbledore's office," muttered Sirius. "I suppose that's a good thing."

"What is Merlin's name _is_ this?" said Snape in a low voice."This is the strangest map of Hogwarts I have ever seen."

"It is an enchanted map, Severus." It was Remus who spoke. "You have seen it before, although you didn't know what it was at the time; it appeared to be nothing more than a piece of parchment charmed to insult people. There is a spell on it to keep its secrets hidden from... er... prying eyes. The map shows the whereabouts of everyone in the castle and on the grounds. We should be able to find Lily, with the help of the Marauders' Map, if she is still on the school grounds."

Snape gazed down at the map, and his black gaze trailed after the little moving dots for a few silent moments.

"She is not there," he said, a slight tremor in his voice.

"You are right!" James glanced up from the map. "I have had quite a bit of practice scanning the map quickly. Helped keep me out of trouble, back in my own schooldays! No, Lily's name is not on the map, which means..."

Snape's dark gaze was burning now. "What does it mean, Potter? Does it mean that she has left the school grounds? Why would she do that without telling anyone?"

James shook his head slowly. "She may not have left the grounds. There are a few areas within the school that are not on the map; she could be in one of the unplottable rooms. Like the Room of Requirement or the Chamber of Secrets."

"Unplottable?" Snape stood silently for a moment. Then he said slowly: "There are other unplottable areas of Hogwarts as well, Potter. We need to search the teachers' sleeping quarters and the wine cellars-"

"There are wine cellars at Hogwarts?" Sirius glanced up from the map.

"Oh, don't tell me that the three of you and your little rodent friend never discovered that during your own schooldays!" A shadow of a smile brushed over Snape's colorless face now, but his voice was still unsteady. "The Slytherin students were quite familiar with the cellars in my day. I'll search the wine cellars if you like. Lupin, you remember how to access the teachers' wing, I trust? Perhaps you can bring Professor McGonagall, Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley with you; there are quite a few rooms to search. Potter and Black, try the Room of Requirement. Harry, we need a Parselmouth to access the Chamber of Secrets. I don't see how Lily could be _there, _but we can leave no stone unturned."

"I'll go with Harry, Severus." Tom said quickly.

Snape inclined his head. "Excellent, my lord. Let's all meet in my office when we are done searching. The headmaster can wait..." His voice sank to a whisper. "I... I have an uneasy feeling about this."

Harry gazed up at the familiar castle, a looming dark silhouette against the deepening blue shadows. _Where are you, Mum? Are you in there somewhere, hidden behind those ancient walls? _A light mist had begun to rise from the darkening waters of the lake now, and Harry felt as if the cold grey-white tendrils of mist were grasping at his heart. _You brought her back to me for a few enchanted moments, Tom, but perhaps it was too perfect to last_...

...

It felt both strange and sweet to enter the Chamber of Secrets with Tom. Harry felt a slight pleasurable shiver at his spine as Tom whispered the Parseltongue command that opened the Chamber.

"What?" Tom's silver gaze rested on Harry's face. He had assumed his own appearance as soon as they were alone, and his face, half veiled in shadows, was an angel's face.

Harry swallowed and reached for Tom's hand. "This is where... where I first saw you as you are now, Tom. Even then, I found you beautiful..."

Tom kissed his hand gently. "Even then? But you were just a child, Harry, and I was nothing but a dark memory."

"I know," whispered Harry. "You terrified me, once I realized who you were. Not a mere schoolboy, as I first thought, but the Dark Lord himself... But even so, you spoke to my soul."

"Perhaps," breathed Tom, tracing the outline of Harry's face with a pale finger, "the horcrux in you recognized another shard of my splintered soul..." He reached for his wand, muttered a spell under his breath, and a flickering golden light fell over the ancient chamber. The air felt cold and musty and still down here, and Harry felt the memory of the basilisk stir in his bones.

The light from Tom' wand swept around the chamber, and Harry felt goosebumps rising on his skin as the formless dark shape of the dead basilisk came into view.

"Mum? Are you down here?" Harry's voice echoed strangely among the stone walls.

For a moment, Harry almost expected to see a glimpse of his mother's red hair in the shadows, where he had once seen Ginny's lifeless form against the cold and ancient stones. But nothing stirred in the Chamber of Secrets.

"Not here," said Tom softly, shining the light from his wand over every inch of the shadowy chamber. "Of course she is not here, Harry. For if Dumbledore has anything to do with her disappearance - and I am certain that he does - he would not have hidden here in a place where you and I can enter more easily than anyone." He stood still for a moment and looked at the looming shape of the basilisk. Then he kissed Harry softly on the mouth.

"Impressive work, killing Salazar's ancient monster, my enchanted Gryffindor. Where did you find such courage?"

Harry suddenly recalled Ginny's face, small and pale, as it had looked when he had found her in the Chamber of Secrets. He shivered slightly. "It's the courage that comes from being human, Tom. From wanting to save those you care about..."

Tom turned his face slightly, and shadows fell over his pale features, hiding his expression from Harry. "I am afraid you are going to need that courage in the days to come, my love..."

...

None of the others had found any trace of Lily either. When they were all gathered in Snape's office an hour later, Snape was looking positively ill.

"The headmaster." he said in a low voice. "You had better go and talk to him, Harry, and find out what he wants. He... He may have something to do with Lily's disappearance. Perhaps it was a bad idea to keep him waiting this long."

"Let's go, then." Tom reached for Harry's hand. "Do you have your wand, Harry? At least _you_ haven't sworn any ridiculous unbreakable oaths..."

"The unbreakable oath!" Minerva McGonagall's harried face brightened for a moment. "Of course! You made a promise to Lily, Tom, a promise that can only be lifted once one of you is dead. Quick, Tom - utter the first word of a forbidden curse, and you should be able to sense whether the oath you swore is still in effect. If it is, you should feel something holding you back from breaking you oath. If it isn't... Well, then we will know that Lily is no longer..." Her voice trailed off.

"No longer alive?" whispered Harry.

"Oh, don't say that!" Snape's voice was barely audible.

Tom nodded slowly and reached for his wand. He pointed it at a small spider that was scurrying across Snape's floor. "_Avad-"_ Tom sank to the ground with a moan, and the spider darted to safety behind the bookshelf.

"Tom-?" Harry hurried to his side.

"Yes, that blasted oath is _definitely_ still in effect," muttered Tom through gritted teeth. "Salazar, that was _painful!."_

"Good. That means that she is still alive, at least." Snape turned to Harry. "Now, Mr. Potter, I have sometimes thought to myself that your ability to sneak around the castle unseen after hours borders on the uncanny-"

"Severus! This is hardly the time-" began McGonagall, but Snape cut her off. There was a plea in his eyes as his dark gaze met Harry's.

"I have sometimes wondered if it is more than a coincidence that you seem to possess the same almost supernatural ability to roam around unseen as your father did during his schooldays, but I have never been able to prove... Oh, for Merlin's sake, Harry - if you should have such a thing as an invisibility cloak in your possession, lend it to me!"

"Lend you my cloak?" Harry stared at him. The idea of Snape sneaking around the castle under his invisibility cloak was almost too odd to fathom.

"Please, Mr. Potter." Snape's voice trembled. "I want to follow you and... and the Dark Lord.. to the headmaster's office. I need to hear what he says about Lily. And I... I am not bound by the same oath that you are, my lord. I will not hesitate to do what is needed."

"You would kill Dumbledore?" Harry stared at the former potions master.

A slight smile illuminated Snape's pale features. "Yes, I would, if necessary. Strangely enough, I promised someone quite recently that I would do just that. It was no unbreakable oath, but I _am_ a man of my word."

McGonagall looked faint. "You... You promised that you would _kill_ _the headmaster_, Severus? Who did you make that promise to? Lily? Or... Or Tom Riddle?" Her glance flickered uncertainly to Tom.

Snape shook his head slowly. There was a curious expression on his face. "No, Minerva. As a matter of fact, I gave that promise to the headmaster himself."

"Dumbledore _wants you to kill him?"_ McGonagall's voice was a whisper. "Has he lost his mind?"

"I am afraid not," said Snape softly. "The headmaster is perfectly sane, and that is what makes him such a dangerous man, Minerva. One can reason with a madman, manipulate him, or outwit him, but a sane and calculating man who is committed to his own chilling plan is a far more terrifying opponent. Professor Dumbledore wishes to rid the world of Lord Voldemort, and, Merlin help us, he will not let anyone or anything stand in his way. Not even you, Harry. Not even Lily. And not even his own life. No time to explain now - I will tell you the rest later..."

Harry looked at the pale master for a long moment. Then he reached into his pocket, pulled out his invisibility cloak and handed it to Snape. Snape ran his fingers through the shimmering fabric and drew his breath sharply. "That... That is a true invisibility cloak, if I ever saw one. Of _course_ it had to end up in the hands of the Potters..." He shook his head and sighed. Then he threw the cloak over himself and vanished from sight. "Right behind you, Harry. Let's go."

Harry nodded, and he and Tom set out for the headmaster's office. Tom was again a flaxen-haired boy, and Harry could hear Snape mutter something under his breath that sounded like: "Of all the forms for the Dark Lord to assume willingly..." Harry could sense Snape moving soundlessly behind them, and he smiled to himself. For once, he was rather glad to have the former potions master following him silently along the torchlit corridors.

When they reached the headmaster's office, the heavy oak door swung open before them before they could even utter a password.

The old headmaster was sitting behind his desk, writing on a piece of parchment, and he glanced up as Harry and Tom entered.

"Come in, Harry. I have been waiting for you. You too, Tom..." Dumbledore's familiar voice was surprisingly kind.

"Where is my mother?" demanded Harry. "Where _is _she? You know where she is, don't you?"

A benign smile formed behind Dumbledore's beard. "All in good time, Harry. We have a great deal to talk about, you and I. As for you, Tom-" He glanced at the flaxen-haired boy in the Slytherin robes, "Perhaps you would be kind enough to assume a more familiar form. We know each other too well for disguises."

Tom shrugged. "As you wish." Harry expected him to turn into the dark-haired silver-eyed boy he knew so well, but instead, Draco's features turned a deathly pale, and his eyes gleamed scarlet. The green and silver robes billowed into an all too familiar black cloak. "Will this suit you better, Albus?"

"Lord Voldemort." There was a note of resignation in Dumbledore's voice now. "I see you have decided to assume your dark form this evening. I had rather expected you to look like the young Tom Riddle. I would have thought that your young lover would prefer to look at you in your more human form."

Harry gazed at the pale, familiar face of the Dark Lord, the face that had so haunted him for years. It took him a moment to find his voice. "Appearances don't matter," he whispered. He reached out and ran his fingers wonderingly over the oddly colorless skin. It still felt warm under his touch. "He is still Tom, and he always will be."

Dumbledore looked at them both for a moment in silence. Then he said quietly: "And you have become quite attached to him, haven't you, Harry? I should have seen it coming, perhaps; I should have seen that your obsession with him always bordered on infatuation. It took me a while to put all the pieces together; there were some strange gaps in my memory that seem to have been caused by magic... But I am no fool, Harry, and I was able to discover in the end what perilous path you have chosen to wander. Believe me, Harry, I understand the dark seduction you faced better than anyone. For I once knew another like him, a dark and fascinating creature who drew me mercilessly towards him, like Tom is now pulling you..."

The headmaster leaned forward, his sharp blue eyes fixed on Harry's face. "He has promised you the world, hasn't he, just as he did when you first faced him in front of that enchanted mirror, years ago? He has promised you love and life eternal, just as he did when you were a child. But back then, you turned away from him instinctively, protected by the purity of your innocent heart. He offered to bring your dead mother and father back to life, but you told him "no". For you knew then, wise child that you were, that what he promised you was unnatural and evil."

Dumbledore reached out and touched Harry's hand gently. "But now he has brought them back to you, hasn't he, Harry? And you love him for it?"

"I loved him before he brought them back." Harry could hear the trembling in his own voice. "Sir, what have you done with her? Where is my mother?" There was no movement or sound in the stillness of the room to reveal a hidden presence, but Harry could still sense Snape holding his breath as he waited for the headmaster's answer.

"Your mother..." There was a curious note of sadness in the headmaster's voice. "You love her, don't you, Harry?"

"Of course I do!"

Dumbledore peered at him over his half-moon spectacles. "More than you love _him_?" He glanced at the dark figure by Harry's side.

Harry felt his blood turn to ice. "What... what sort of question is that?"

Dumbledore looked at him for a long moment. Then he said softly: "The only question that matters, Harry. You have chosen to wander down a dark and dangerous path, but there is still time for you to reconsider. Just think about this, Harry, and think about it carefully: Who do you love more, your mother or your dark lover?"

Harry felt a strange shiver in his heart. _He is going to make me choose... Oh, Merlin, he is going to make me choose! How can any human being make such a choice? _

Harry forced himself to look into the headmaster's bright blue eyes, and he tried to keep his voice steady as he answered: "I love them both. And if you understood anything about love, you would know that. Return my mother to me!"

"Return her to you?" Dumbledore peered at him over his half-moon spectacles. "Yes, I might do that, Harry. Your mother is safe, for now. I wouldn't even waste more time looking for her, if I were you; she is hidden where no magic map on earth will show you the way. She will be returned to you, Harry, on one condition."

"What condition would that be, Albus?" Tom's voice was cold.

The headmaster smiled. "The condition? Ah, yes. I thought you might be curious about that, Tom. I will return your young lover's mother to him if you, Tom, will give me something in return. Nothing much, just a few trinkets. A ring, a locket, a cup, a diadem, and a serpent..."

"My horcruxes." Tom's voice had turned to ice now. "In exchange for Harry's mother."

Dumbledore beamed at him. "Precisely, Tom. And I would much prefer the serpent dead and the other items... free of any lingering dark magic, if you catch my drift."

"You want Tom to destroy the horcruxes and hand them to you?" whispered Harry.

"Exactly, Harry. I am glad we understand each other." Dumbledore nodded. "I do not, of course, know whether the Dark Lord cares enough about his human horcrux to make such a sacrifice; I shall be rather curious to find out. And then there is one more little thing, Tom- Oh, don't point your wand at me, Mr. Riddle, you know as well as I do that you will never find Lily if any harm were to come to me... That's better. Now, where was I? Ah, yes. One more thing: In addition to those trinkets I mentioned, I would also like you to give me the little black stone that used to belong to that ring... That will be all, I think. You have three days to complete my request. Otherwise... Ah, well. No need to be morbid. I will see you back here in three days, gentlemen."

And the headmaster showed them politely but firmly to the door.


	16. Riddles

**~Surrender~**

**Rating: M** for slash (homoerotic relationship)

**Warning:** This is a Harry Potter/Voldemort romance set during Harry's sixth year at Hogwarts. Read at your own risk.

**Author's Note: **Thanks for all the lovely reviews and comments! Several readers suggested forcing Dumbledore to drink some veritaserum - or just stomping on him - and I am happy to report that Snape is about to do both. But will that help them find Lily? We will see...

**...**

**~Chapter 16~**

**...**

As Harry and Tom stepped into the corridor, they heard a dull thud and a muffled groan behind them, followed by the headmaster's startled voice: "What in Merlin's name-? Who is there? Show yourself! Oof!"

Tom turned his head slightly, a shadow of a familiar smile appearing on his pale serpentine features. "Ah, Harry, I believe the headmaster has encountered our friend Severus. Let's see how they are getting along, shall we?"

Harry wheeled around. Dumbledore was lying motionless on the floor of his office now, his glasses askew on his long, narrow nose. A few drops of blood trickled from his nostrils into his snow-white beard. Something flickered in the air nearby, and Snape emerged from the invisibility cloak, his white face twisted with rage.

"Did you kill him, Severus?" Tom leaned against the doorway, regarding the headmaster thoughtfully.

"Dead men can't talk," said Snape curtly. A small glittering vial appeared in his hand, and he sat down astride the old man's chest and forced his lips open. "And he _will_ talk, so help me God!"

Snape poured half the contents of the little bottle down the headmaster's throat, and Dumbledore began to sputter weakly.

"_Incarcerous!" _Snape pointed his wand at the old man, and thick ropes wound themselves tightly around the headmaster's limbs. "_Enervate!_"

Dumbledore opened his eyes slowly, blinking in momentary confusion. Then something twinkled in his blue eyes. "Ah, Severus! I should have known. You were always a traitor in your heart; you chose to take Lord Voldemort's side in the end."

Snape shoved his wand in Dumbledore's face. His hand was trembling, and he muttered through gritted teeth: "I have some questions for you, headmaster."

"Of course you do, Severus," said the headmaster genially, "And unless I am very much mistaken, you have very sensibly just fed me an extraordinarily large dose of veritaserum to ensure that I answer those questions truthfully. I would have expected nothing less from you."

"What-? You expected...?" Snape gazed down at the headmaster in confusion for a moment. Then he whispered: "I need answers, Albus. _Where is Lily?_"

Something in Snape's voice made Harry shiver, but Dumbledore appeared unperturbed. "Ah, yes. Of course you would be curious about that. Unfortunately, Severus, that is one question I cannot answer."

"But you are under the influence of veritaserum! You _must_ answer my questions!" Snape stared down at the old man on the floor.

A slight chuckle escaped from the headmaster. "You would think so, wouldn't you? And yet, I am not telling you where Lily is. Not until my conditions are fulfilled."

"But you _have _to..." Snape lifted the bottle to the headmaster's lips again.

"Save the serum, Severus," said Tom calmly. "You have already given him a dose large enough to make a herd of mountain trolls spill all their grisly secrets. It appears that Professor Dumbledore has found a way around answering this particular question. What did you do, Albus, hide Lily in a secret location and make someone else the secret-keeper?"

"You are a clever man, aren't you, Tom?" The headmaster peered appraisingly at him over his crooked glasses. "But I didn't make anyone else the secret-keeper; I am the keeper of this secret myself. I have learned not to trust anyone else, you see, since I have learned recently..." His glance traveled to Harry, "...that there are so very few people one can trust."

"_You_ are the secret-keeper?" whispered Harry. "Then _tell us where she is!"_

"No," said Dumbledore quietly.

"Very ingenious," muttered Snape. "A secret-keeper cannot be made to reveal a secret location unless he chooses to do so willingly. Neither veritaserum nor the Imperius curse can force a secret-keeper to speak, unless he wishes to speak."

"Precisely." The headmaster beamed up at him. "And as you may have gathered, Severus, I do not wish to reveal Lily's whereabouts just yet."

"Perhaps the Cruciatus curse will loosen your tongue, then." A hectic blush had appeared on Snape's usually pale cheeks now, and he clutched his wand so hard that his knuckles whitened.

"Amusing as that would be to watch, Severus," said Tom gently, "you know as well as I do that the secret hidden inside a secret-keeper's soul will not let itself be revealed under duress. We can't force the secret out of him by torture, delightful as that idea may sound. But it would be a waste of good serum not to get some _other _useful information out of him while we've got him all bound up and truthful, even if he can't reveal Lily's precise location." He bent over the headmaster, his scarlet eyes fixed on Dumbledore's face. "Has Lily left Hogwarts, Albus?"

A slight pause. Then the headmaster answered, with a slight sigh: "No."

"Is she in one of the unplottable rooms?" Harry asked eagerly.

"No." The headmaster's voice was devoid of emotion.

Harry thought about it for a moment. "Then why can't I see her on the map?"

"Map?"

"There is a magical map that shows the whereabouts of everyone in the castle."

A slight smiled hovered around Dumbledore's mouth. "I see. That explains a lot, Harry... I have sometimes wondered how you are able to get about the castle undetected with such alarming frequency. But you can't see Lily on your enchanted map? That makes sense, Harry. You can't see her on the map because she is not here."

"What?" Harry gazed at the headmaster in confusion. "Not here? But you said that she hasn't left Hogwarts."

"That is true."

"Then where _is _she?"

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "I can't tell you that. It's a bit of a riddle, isn't it, Harry?"

"Is she hurt?" Snape leaned close to the headmaster's face. "Have you harmed Lily?"

"Not yet." Dumbledore's face was impassive.

"What will happen to her?" whispered Snape.

Dumbledore sighed. "That is really up to Tom and Harry, isn't it? If I get the items I asked for, I will return Lily to you. And if I don't, I mean to kill her. I _am _of course terribly sorry about that, Severus, but it's the only way..."

"The only way to do what, Albus?" Tom's voice was cold.

Dumbledore gazed up at him for a moment. "The only way to destroy _you_, Lord Voldemort, and save the wizarding world from your clutches. I need the horcruxes to do that, and the resurrection stone as well..."

"And then you will find a way to kill me," said Tom. His voice fell soft, but Harry sensed a dark edge in it.

"Yes."

Tom looked at Dumbledore for a long moment. "Do you mean to kill Harry as well?" His voice was a whisper.

"Only if it becomes necessary, Tom. And whether it becomes necessary is of course entirely up to you... You seem to have become curiously attached to him. I can't wait to see what you will choose to do, Tom."

"Let's go!" Snape got to his feet, stepping carefully on Dumbledore's shoulder and eliciting a muffled groan of pain. "This is hopeless. We have to find another way to locate Lily."

"I don't suppose there is much point in asking you to untie me before you leave, is there?" asked Dumbledore politely.

Snape snorted and turned away from him. "Let's cast a locking charm on the door when we leave. The headmaster can stay tied up here in the office until the three days are up; no need to have him roaming around the castle. I will inform the house elves that he is working and must not be disturbed."

"You won't find Lily, you know." Dumbledore's voice was gentle. "But you can certainly wear yourselves out trying if you so choose."

"So it will be just you and us portraits in here in the office for a few days, then, Albus?" drawled the voice of Phineas Nigellus Black from the wall. "What _will _we think of doing to amuse ourselves? Oh, yes, that's right, you have got enough veritaserum in your system to make you speak the truth from now until next Christmas, haven't you? Well, won't this be delightful! I have always wanted to get to know you better. There are so many things I have been _dying_ to ask you about, beginning with those bedwetting incidents back in your third year. Didn't think anyone knew about that, did you? I want to hear _all _the details. We will have a lovely time together, won't we, Albus?"

"I think the headmaster is looking a little pale," whispered Tom in Harry's ear as they followed Snape out of the headmaster's office. Tom turned and cast a few spells on the door. "But not _nearly_ as pale as he will look after three days with Phineas."

...

Harry leaned against the wall in the corridor outside. His legs were shaking under him. "He... He is going to make me choose, isn't he, Tom?" His voice came out as a whisper. "Dumbledore is going to make me choose between you and my mother. If we turn over the horcruxes and the stone, he will surely find a way to kill you, and if we don't, he will kill my mother..."

"It won't come to that," said Tom softly. He trailed his fingers through Harry's hair in a slow, lingering caress. "We will find your mother before the three days are over, Harry. The headmaster may be cunning, my love, but I hardly think he is a match for my brilliance and your courage. You will not have to choose."

"But if I _had_ to choose..." Harry closed his eyes.

"Don't, Harry-"

"Let him speak, my lord," said Snape in a low voice. "I... I am rather curious to know the answer. Harry, if you had to choose between Lily and... and _him, _who would you choose?"

Harry sank down on the floor and buried his head in his hands. "Don't make me say it, Professor."

"Harry, I need to know." There was a strange urgency in Snape's voice.

Harry glanced up, reluctantly. "I... I have no choice, Professor. If I can only choose one of them..." He struggled to find his voice. "It should be an impossible choice, but my heart and my soul have already chosen. I can't help it."

Tom sank down next to him and wrapped his arms around Harry. "You don't need to say it, Harry. I already know. You would choose her. It's only natural, after all the pain I have inflicted on you in the past..."

"No." Harry buried his face against the rough fabric of Tom's dark cloak. "If I could only save one of you, it would have to be _you, _Tom. She is my mother, but _you_ are my soul. I... I have no choice."

"What?" There was wonder in Tom's voice. "You would choose _me_? But I don't understand..."

"I do."

Harry glanced up at the sound of Snape's voice. There was something in the master's dark eyes so lovely and so forelorn that Harry felt a stab of pity in his heart.

"Love leaves him no choice, my lord," said Snape softly. "But I hope you will understand, Harry, that love leaves _me _no choice either. I will do everything in my power to save Lily, even..." His glance fell on the Dark Lord's face. "Even murder... If it should come to that."

Tom looked at him for a long moment. "Good. We know where we stand, then, Severus."

"_What in Merlin's name-?"_ A startled voice sounded behind them. Horace Slughorn was standing in the torchlit hallway, deathly pale. The stack of yellowed papers he had been carrying fell from his grasp and scattered at his feet. "But that's... that's... _The Dark Lord?_ Here, at Hogwarts...?"

Tom got to his feet and gave a slight bow. "A pleasure to see you again, Horace."

"But... But..." Slughorn stared at him as if he had seen a ghost. "You are here with... with Harry? No, that can't be right..."

"Yes, Professor. He is here with me." Harry reached for Tom's hand, and Slughorn gave a small wheezy gasp. He seemed to have a difficult time breathing properly. He made a small movement with his hand, as if reaching for his wand, but his hand fell limply by his side. Slughorn merely stood there for a long moment, irresolutely, and gazed at Tom's face; he seemed to be searching for something in the pallid inhuman features. Then he whispered: "You are still Tom. I can see it in your eyes, even now. You are still Tom..."

"We could use your help, Horace." Tom reached out and put a pale hand on Slughorn's sleeve.

"My help?" Slughorn's voice was hoarse. "Oh, don't ask for my help again, Tom. It... It didn't go so well last time you asked for my help, did it? When I told you about the..." His voice trailed off, and his glance flickered uncertainly to Harry.

"I know about the horcruxes, Professor," said Harry quickly. "That part... that part can't be helped. But perhaps you can help us both with something else. It's not dark magic this time, professor, but a question of saving the life of an innocent person. My mother..."

"You mother-?" Slughorn's eyes widened. "But your mother is dead, Harry... No magic on earth can bring her back, my dear boy."

"She _is _back, Horace," said Tom softly. "I brought her back by means of a powerful ancient magic. But now Lily is missing, and we believe her to be in danger. Professor Dumbledore has her, and he will not tell Harry or me where she is hidden... We believe he means to harm her."

"Horace." Snape's voice was urgent. "We need to find Lily. I fed the headmaster veritaserum, but it had no effect; he has made himself the secret-keeper of the place where Lily is hidden. I can think of no other potion that can make Professor Dumbledore tell us the truth. But you... You always knew a great deal about obscure potions and dark magic, didn't you, Horace? Tell me, is there no potion strong enough to make a secret-keeper reveal his secret?"

"Lily?" Slughorn stood in silence for a moment, looking at the three of them. Then he whispered: "Lily is alive? I think... Yes, I think I should like to help you... But there is no such potion, Severus, as the one you need."

"Then let us invent one." Snape grabbed Slughorn's arm. "Between us, perhaps we could concoct something-?"

But Slughorn shook his head. "I don't think that would be possible, Severus. But perhaps there is another way." He bent down and picked up his papers from the floor. "Follow me, and we will see what we can do."

...

"That's much better, Tom." Slughorn glanced at Tom, who had again become a dark-haired boy. "You look less frightening now. Which isn't to say that I'm not frightened of you, of course..." His voice trembled slightly. "Even if you do have the face of an angel."

The plump potions master placed a shallow silver bowl filled with a clear liquid on the table.

Snape leaned forward. "What in Merlin's name is this potion, Horace? It is colorless and odorless, but something about the way it reflects light tells me that it is not veritaserum."

Slughorn gave a little chuckle. "Perhaps you have spent too much time brewing strange potions in dark dungeons, Severus, to recognize this marvelous brew."

"Recognize it?" Snape frowned. He stared at the clear liquid, puzzled.

"Taste it," suggested Slughorn gently.

Snape cast him a look of deep suspicion, but he dipped a finger in the silver bowl and brought a few clear drops to his lips. He licked the drops slowly off his finger, then sighed deeply. "Water."

"That's right, Severus. Water." Slughorn seemed amused. "Such a common liquid that most advanced potions makers forget all about the magical properties it can possess. It can restore life to a man dying of thirst, it can cleanse our wounds and bring us health..."

"Spare me the lecture and get to the point." Snape sounded like he was in pain. "How will a bowl of _water_ help us find Lily?"

Slughorn smiled. "There is a very old and very simple sort of magic that few wizards know about these days. My grandmother showed it to me when I was a small boy. She was never really a very good witch, and she never mastered the more advanced forms of magic, beyond a few simple household spells. But she had grown up in the country, you see, and she knew quite a bit of the old, simple country magic that requires neither spells nor wands."

He placed a pale wax candle in a silver candlestick and lit it. The flickering flame cast a glimmering golden light over the water in the bowl. "This is magic so old and simple that you will never find it mentioned in any of the Hogwarts text books, which deal with more advanced topics. But a hundred years ago, most simple country witches knew that if you hold a candle up to a silver bowl filled with water and stare into it long enough, you will see the face of your true love."

"Did you ever try it, sir?" asked Harry curiously.

A slight blush spread over the plump master's cheeks. "Try it? I... No, let's not talk about that, my dear boy. It was so long ago, it's hardly important any more... But when Tom said that your mother is nowhere to be found, I thought that it might be possible to find her by means of this old magic." He glanced at Snape. "If you will permit me for making such an assumption, Severus - perhaps it is best if you try-? I seem to recall that you were rather fond of Lily."

Snape nodded. He took the candle from Slughorn and bent over the bowl of water. Harry watched the dark figure breathlessly. Snape's inscrutable black eyes were searching for something in the water.

"I see her." Snape's voice was a whisper. "I see Lily! She is sleeping. Her eyes are closed, but I can see her breathing... Her hair is spread out over a white pillow, and there is a tall arched window behind her."

He straightened up suddenly. "But that makes no sense... I recognize the window. She appears to be in the hospital wing."

Harry pulled the map quickly out of his pocket and scanned it. His heart was hammering in his chest. "The hospital wing? No... No, she is not there, Professor. I can see Madam Pomfrey on the map, going back and forth, and Victoria Frobisher and Owen Cauldwell, staying still in their beds. I know that Cauldwell has come down with the flu, and Vicky Frobisher fell off her broomstick last week and sprained her wrist. There is no sign of my mother."

"But I _saw_ her there." Snape took the map from Harry's hands and pointed at a spot by the infirmary window. "Right there... Let's go, quickly!"

...

"I don't understand it." Snape looked helplessly around the infirmary.

"Professor, Mr. Cauldwell needs his rest!" Madam Pomfrey gave Snape a stern look. "Perhaps if you could give me an idea of what you are looking for..."

"A person." Snape shook the heavy red velvet curtains again, but nothing but a small cloud of dust emerged. "She is supposed to be right _here..._" He ran his hand over the smooth white sheets that covered the empty bed by the window. The sun was setting in blood at the horizon, and the last rays of dying daylight cast a deep red glow over the untouched pillow that made Harry think of his mother's hair...

"No one has been in that bed for quite some time, Professor. There is no one here but my two patients, and you have disturbed them for long enough. Now, I really _must_ insist that you let them get some sleep." Madam Pomfrey steered the reluctant Snape firmly to the door.

"I don't understand," whispered Snape as soon as they were outside the door. "Your map must be wrong, Harry."

Harry shook his head slowly. "The map has never been wrong before. And we saw with our own eyes just now that my mother was not in the infirmary."

"Are you certain that... that someone who has been recalled from the dead will show up on this map of yours, Harry?" asked Slughorn gently. "Perhaps... Perhaps she is not quite as human as she used to be. Perhaps Lily is not visible to us..."

"She is human." Snape grabbed the map from Harry. "She is visible; I have seen her with my own eyes. And she should show up on the map. Look here, Horace, in the Gryffindor common room. There's Sirius Black, and James Potter, recently back from the dead, talking to Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley."

"What? Sirius Black and James Potter?" Slughorn's eyes widened. "_They_ are alive as well? Sweet Merlin... This is... This is a little much for an old man to process in one afternoon." He wiped a few drops of perspiration from his forehead with a dainty lilac handkerchief.

"Perhaps you were wrong about what you saw in the water, Professor Snape?" suggested Harry.

But Snape shook his head firmly. "I don't think so, Harry. I saw her so very clearly..." There was a strange glitter in his dark eyes, as if he were about to weep.

"He was not wrong, Harry," said Slughorn, a slight flush coloring his plump cheeks now. "You see, I... Well, I happened to glance into the water a moment after Professor Snape, and I... Well, I saw her too..."


	17. The Elder Wand

**~Surrender~**

**Rating: M** for slash (homoerotic relationship)

**Warning:** This is a Harry Potter/Voldemort romance set during Harry's sixth year at Hogwarts. Read at your own risk.

**...**

**~Chapter 17~**

**...**

"_You_ saw a vision of my mother in the water?" Harry stared at Slughorn. "But that must mean that you are in love with..." He couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence.

"Perhaps it was wrong of me to mention that I saw her." Slughorn's voice was a whisper, and a hectic flush colored his cheeks. "I can see how that confession would lead you to believe that I... Oh, it hardly matters now, does it? Whatever old sentimental attachments may still linger in my heart of an aged man cannot be of great interest to anyone." Slughorn sank slowly down into a large armchair upholstered in crimson velvet . There was an odd, distant look in his pale green eyes. "Of course I'm not in love with your mother, Harry; that would be preposterous. An old man like me..." A shaky little laugh escaped him. "No need to dwell on that ridiculous idea, my dear boy. But I thought I should mention catching a glimpse of her in the water in case that information should turn out to be helpful in locating her. It was just a fleeting glimpse, of course; I daresay Severus saw her much more clearly..." His voice trailed off.

"Where was she, Horace, when you saw her?" Snape's voice was devoid of emotion.

"In the infirmary, of course, just like you said." Slughorn reached for a small crystal glass on the table by his side and emptied the deep amber contents in one gulp. "There is more brandy, if anyone would like some. Perhaps you, Severus-?"

"No." Snape's dark gaze lingered on the old master's face. "So you saw her in the infirmary as well, Horace? Then why can't we find her there? She wasn't _there... _It was not only that we couldn't see her; I wondered for a moment if the headmaster had used his transfiguration skills to give her a different form." Snape swallowed audibly. "But I would have known it if she was there, I think, even if she was no longer in human form. I have always felt this strange magic rushing through my veins whenever she was near, ever since I was a boy... But there was nothing. She was _not_ in the infirmary, even if you saw her there as clearly as I did." He leaned closer to the old potions master. "Tell me exactly what you saw, Horace. Even the slightest clue would be helpful. Perhaps you noticed something that I didn't."

The empty glass was trembling ever so slightly in Slughorn's hand. "What I saw? Why, I saw her face - for just a _very_ brief moment, as I said - pale against the flaming hair that flowed over the pillow." Slughorn closed his eyes for a moment. "But there was something odd about that vision; I can't quite put my finger on it. Something about the colors, perhaps... The light was all wrong, I think."

"The light?" Snape's dark eyes considered him intently. "What do you mean?"

Slughorn passed a hand over his eyes. "The light that slanted through the window behind the bed made her hair seem almost incandescent. You must have seen how the light made fire out of her curls, Severus? But the light itself was wrong. It was much too brilliant, too white... I remember her hair quite well, and how the sunlight used to make it glow..." He caught Harry's eye and added quickly: "I only remember this because her hair color was rather striking, of course. Very unusual. One does tend to remember little things like that. But the autumn light always cast a warmer hue over her hair, deeper and more golden. Surely, you must remember, Severus, how her hair always looked more like burnished copper in the autumn than in the spring? That was no autumn sun falling over Lily's hair in the vision I had, but the pure and clear and brilliant light of early spring, I'm sure of it. How very odd..."

"Spring? But that makes no sense. You must be wrong, Horace." Tom's voice fell softly.

There was a sudden sharp knock on the door, and James stuck his head in. "Mind if we come in, Professor?"

"Mr. Potter!" Slughorn whispered, half-rising from his chair. His startled glance trailed from James to Harry and back to James. "So it is true, then? You are back as well? Oh, yes, please do come in, my dear boy. And is that Mr. Black with you? And... Professor Lupin? And Miss Granger, and Mr... er... Weasley, you say? So you all know each other, then? Oh, dear, what an astonishing collection of old friends I have around me this evening..." He sank back down into his chair again, a dazed expression on his face as he looked from one person to another. "Brandy, anyone?"

"Absolutely!" Sirius emptied the glass Slughorn offered him in one gulp. "If you ever wander off like that again, Harry, please leave us the Marauders' Map, will you? We were going crazy trying to find you. We knew that... er... Tom was with you, but still... We checked the headmaster's office, of course, but there was no one there but Dumbledore himself, all trussed up like a kipper and confessing to the portraits on the wall that he is, apparently, the ghost writer of both _Secrets of the Darkest Art _and four of Fifi LaFolle's most popular romance novels. Does anyone know what the hell that was all about?"

"Don't disappear on me again, Harry," muttered James. He flung his arms around Harry. "I couldn't bear to lose you, now that I've finally found you again... Have you discovered where your mother is?"

"I don't know," whispered Harry. "Snape and Slughorn both had a vision of her in the infirmary, but she doesn't seem to be there after all." He filled the others in quickly.

James frowned. "How can Lily both _be_ there and _not_ be there at the same time? That doesn't make any sense."

"At the same time?" Hermione stared at him. "But that's... That's simply brilliant! I think that must be the answer, Mr. Potter. She was both there and not there, but _not at the same time. _Of course! _That's_ why Professor Slughorn noticed that the light was wrong."

"Er... okay?" James looked as puzzled as Harry felt.

"You mean she was in the infirmary before, but Dumbledore moved her somewhere else?" Ron wrinkled his freckled nose thoughtfully. "That makes sense, I suppose, but how would he have moved her if he was tied up in his office? Did he have an accomplice or something?"

But Hermione shook her head. "That's not what I mean, Ron. Harry's mother is not on the map because she is not at Hogwarts."

"Then where is Merlin's name _is _she?" Snape grabbed Hermione's arm. "The headmaster said that she never left Hogwarts, but he also said that she is not here. Please, Miss Granger, if you understand any of this, tell me!"

"You are hurting me, Professor." Hermione said gently. She pulled herself away from his grasp and rubbed her arm. "Perhaps we can't see Mrs. Potter on the map because she is not at Hogwarts _in this time. _The map shows us the castle in the present. What if she is _here_, but in a different time, in a time when it is spring, rather than autumn?"

"A different time?" Tom regarded Hermione with interest. "An ingenious idea, Hermione. That would explain a great deal, wouldn't it?"

"How can she be in a different time? You are speaking nonsense, Miss Granger." Snape's face was white. "Explain yourself!"

"A time turner," said Hermione calmly. "What if the headmaster used a time turner to bring her to a time long ago in the past, or far into the future?"

"A time turner?" Harry stared at Hermione. "Hermione, what did you do with the time turner you used to have? The one we used to rescue Sirius and Buckbeak? You turned it in to McGonagall, right?"

Hermione froze. "No, I... Oh." She covered her face with her hands.

"What?" Harry shook her gently. "Come on, Hermione, speak!"

"McGonagall said that she wasn't really supposed to have it either," muttered Hermione through her hands. "She had had it for a long time, but it was against ministry regulations. So she asked me to give it to the headmaster..."

"The headmaster has a time turner?" Snape's face resembled a ghost now. "Well, then, let's go and get it from him at once!"

"I'm afraid it's not quite that simple, Professor," whispered Hermione. "He _can't _have used that time turner to hide Harry's mother in the distant past. I used that time turner quite a bit, back in my third year, and it can only turn time back three or four hours, that's all... If it had been possible to use a time turner to turn back time further than that, Harry would have had his parents back long ago."

"A more powerful time turner, then?" Snape's voice was low and urgent. "They've got some at the Ministry, don't they? Perhaps the headmaster has one of those."

"There is no such thing as a time turner that allows you to travel further back in time than a few hours," whispered Hermione. "McGonagall told me all about time turners back in third year, when she lent me hers. And all the ones at the Ministry were destroyed anyway, during the battle last year."

"Oh, if it's a time turner you want, my dear-" Slughorn got to his feet and began to rummage through his elegant mahogany desk. "I think someone gave me one, years ago."

"You have a time turner?" Snape turned abruptly.

"Yes, of course. It was a gift from an old student of mine. Now, where did I put it? It didn't strike me as a terribly useful thing at the time. Why would one want to live a few recent hours of one's life over and over? Not that it wasn't very thoughtful of Eldritch Diggory to give it to me, of course; I truly appreciated the gesture. Did you know that he was my student before he became Minister of Magic? I was able to pull a few strings for him, behind the scenes... Ah, here it is!"

Slughorn pulled a small maroon box from one of the drawers. "And I still have the note Elritch sent me. Listen to this: 'To a true friend, in memory of times past...'

"The time turner, Horace." Tom held out his hand.

"What? Oh, yes, of course. But I don't think it will do you any good, Tom."

Tom held the small golden instrument up to the light and studied it from all angles. "Hmmm..."

"If the headmaster managed to do it, there must be _some _way to modify a time turner." Snape's voice was hoarse. "You are a great wizard, my lord. Surely, your magic is more than equal to Dumbledore's..."

"Well, of course!" There was a sudden glitter in Tom's silver eyes. "No ordinary magic would do it, but perhaps the headmaster found a powerful magic that could turn time back months or even years."

"I don't think there is any magic that can do that." Hermione shook her head slowly.

"No common magic, no." Tom stared dreamily into the fire that crackled merrily in Slughorn's fireplace. "But I have noticed that the headmaster seems to have a fondness for ancient magical artifacts. He has in his possession a Pensieve, a Sorting Hat containing an ancient powerful sword, and - until quite recently - an old ring containing a resurrection stone. I seem to recall that he also managed to con Nicolas Flamel out of the philosopher's stone, under the pretext that his school's basement was much safer than the all the well-guarded vaults of Gringott's... Professor Dumbledore is a collector, in short, of ancient powerful artifacts. What if he has managed to get his hands on the most powerful one of them all?"

"What's that?" Harry looked at Tom, uncomprehending. "Something more powerful than the resurrection stone?"

Tom's gaze met Harry's. "The legendary elder wand, my love. Together with the ancient resurrection stone in my pocket and the invisibility cloak in yours, it forms the Three Hallows of lore."

"He's got the elder wand? Oh, Merlin help us!" Snape's face was whiter than death.

"The three hallows? But I've heard of those!" Ron glanced up quickly. "They were in one of my books at home."

"_You_ have read about these ancient magical artifacts?" Hermione stared at him blankly. "But you have... what? Four books?"

Ron shrugged. "It's a fairy tale, Hermione. From a kids' book."

"Far more than a fairy tale, I think." Tom pulled his yew wand out of his pocket and swirled it thoughtfully. "The elder wand is said to possess a magic far beyond an ordinary wand, even my own. If a powerful wizard, such as Dumbledore or... well, me... were to use the elder wand in conjunction with a time turner, it might be possible to travel anywhere one wanted in time."

"Then Lily could be anywhere?" Snape sank down in one of Slughorn's plush chairs with a groan. "And so, I suppose, could the elder wand... I don't suppose the headmaster has left it lying around his office for us to find. And knowing him, truth serum will not be sufficient to get him to reveal the location of the wand; I'm sure he has found a way around that. I don't see that we are any closer to finding Lily..." He buried his head in his hands.

Harry stood and looked at Snape for a long moment. A curious thought had just occurred to him. He whispered: "You don't think Dumbledore would leave the Elder Wand lying around his office? Actually, I think you are wrong, Professor. I think the headmaster has hidden the wand in plain sight."

"What?" Snape stared at him.

"What _are _you talking about, love?" Tom shot Harry a puzzled glance.

"The elder wand." Harry pulled the Marauders' Map out of his pocket and handed it to his father. "Be right back, Dad. Come on, Tom, I will show you where it is. I have seen it many times - I just never knew what it was."

"You have seen the elder wand in Dumbledore's possession-?" Tom's silver eyes widened. "Where?"

Harry smiled. "You will see, Tom."

...

"Don't mind us, headmaster. We won't disturb you for long. We are merely here to retrieve the elder wand. Oh, dear - did I startle you? Please _do _carry on with your fascinating conversation with Phineas. Something about a murder, was it?" Tom nodded politely at the headmaster, who was straining impatiently against the magic ropes that tied his limbs. "Oh, _please, _Professor Dumbledore - language! Harry is only sixteen; you really shouldn't use those words in his presence. You will corrupt the boy! Now, where did you say the wand was, Harry?" Tom's glance swept along the book-covered walls of the headmaster's office. "Concealed inside some volume devoted to the Dark Arts?"

"No." Harry crossed the room, intensely aware of the headmaster's gaze following him. He didn't look at Dumbledore's face, but he felt fairly certain that there was no twinkle in the blue eyes now. "The elder wand is right here, Tom, where it's always been." Harry opened the little door to the bird cage in the corner, and Fawkes fluted softly. "Come here, Fawkes. I'm sorry to disturb you, but I need to look in your cage for a minute." Harry took the scarlet bird in his hands and lifted it gently out of the cage. Fawkes gave a small squeak of protest, but ended up settling peacefully on Harry's head.

Harry reached into the familiar golden cage. "Professor Dumbledore gave you a very lovely perch to sit on, didn't he Fawkes?" he whispered. Fawkes pulled softly on his hair in response. Harry loosened the old, twisted perch that the phoenix had been sitting on from the cage. "And a very ancient twig it is, too, by the looks of it. A twig from an elder tree..." Harry gave the wooden stick a little flick. "Let's see what it can do... _Expecto patronum!_"

A brilliant silver light filled the room, and Harry stared at the creature before him in wonder. "But that's not... not my patronus..." But even as he was speaking, he knew that he was wrong: This _was _his patronus, and the familiar luminous stag he had seen so often before had been nothing but its pale shadow. Perhaps the resplendent thing before him was also a stag; it was difficult to say. Harry knew, as he gazed into its eyes, that it was a wild and enchanted creature from the very morning of the world, from the time when magic was new, and that it was _his, _his magic, his soul, his guardian...

Harry felt a wild rush of wings above him, and Fawkes began to circle around his patronus, singing to it as if it recognized an old friend.

And then the light faded, and Fawkes sank down on the headmaster's desk with a melancholy squeak. "It's all right, Fawkes." Harry stroked the bird's head softly. "I'll bring him back to play with you some time."

Tom, who had stood silent and awestruck, reached for the elder wand. "That was a rather remarkable patronus, my love. Now, let's see what else we can do with this wand..." He pointed the wand at the old man on the floor. "_Imperio!_"

Was it Harry's imagination, or did Dumbledore roll his eyes ever so slightly?

"Now, headmaster," said Tom pleasantly, "perhaps you would be so kind as to tell us where - and _when - _you have hidden Lily?"

"No, I don't think so, Tom." The headmaster was equally polite. "And I am sure you are intelligent enough to know why."

Tom sighed. "You used the elder wand to cast the Fidelius charm, didn't you?"

"Of course."

"Ah, well. It was worth a shot."

As they left Dumbledore's office, Harry heard the voice of Phineas Nigellus Black behind him: "Rather impressive wizards, those two boys! And the shorter one isn't even a Slytherin, judging by his robes! Now, where were we, Albus... Oh, yes. You said that curses were fired, and little Ariana fell dead to the floor. What exactly happened, Albus? Surely, you must suspect whose curse it was that led to the poor girl's death?"

"God damn you, Phineas..."

"Come now, Albus. You _know_, don't you? Whose curse was it that killed her?"

And Dumbledore spoke a single word, so filled with sorrow that Harry could feel something breaking in his heart: "Mine..."

**...**

"The elder wand?" Snape's voice came out as a whisper. "I... I never thought I would say this, but I may have understimated you, Harry."

Hermione gazed at the ancient elder wand in fascination. "But... But even if you can use the wand and the time turner to travel back in time, how will you know how far to go, Harry? Your mother could be anywhere."

"Not quite anywhere." Tom pointed the wand experimentally at the small delicate clockwork of the time turner. "If she is in the hospital wing, we can eliminate the time periods before that wing was added. The infirmary was built around 1600, I believe?"

"1596," said Hermione automatically. "But that doesn't narrow things down all that much."

Snape thought for a moment. "Perhaps there are other clues as well. I saw Lily sleeping in a hospital bed much like the one that is there now, resting her head on a white linen pillow. I don't think they had pillows like that in 1596. And the bed I saw could not have been older than a few hundred years at the most."

Hermione shook her head slowly. "That doesn't help much, Professor. We can't travel back to each and every moment in time between, say 1700, and now. And for all we know, she could be in the future, rather than in the past..."

"I wonder..." Tom seemed lost in some musings of his own. "When I hid my horcruxes, I chose places that had some personal significance to me. I wonder if one wouldn't do the same thing if one were to hide someone or something in time. Harry, my love, if you could choose to travel back to any point in time, any at all, where would you go?"

Harry thought for a moment. "To the time of our first kiss? Or maybe that day I met you in the rain in Little Whinging. Or maybe to the time when my parents were students here at Hogwarts..."

"Precisely." Tom kissed him gently on the head. "You would choose those time because they have meaning to you. Now, if only we could discover the most significant times in Dumbledore's life! I think he would have chosen to hide Lily in the past, rather than the future, simply because he would know the past so much better. It is easier to hide something in a place you know well."

"But how will you discover what the most significant times in Professor Dumbledore's life were?" Hermione glanced doubtfully at Tom. "I know that he will not reveal Mrs. Potter's location, even under the influence of the truth serum, but perhaps if the question is asked in an indirect way-?"

"Perhaps." Tom's eyes shone. "But I have a better idea. Mr. Black, you have some experience with prison breaks, I believe?"

Sirius raised an eyebrow. "I did break out of Azkaban, yes."

"Would you be equally good at breaking _in_?"

Sirius stared at him. "You want to break into Azkaban?" His face went pale. "But why-?"

"Not Azkaban, Mr. Black," said Tom mildly. "Nurmengard."

The others looked at him in stunned silence.

"Nurmengard?" whispered Harry.

Tom nodded. "Precisely, my love. It is time to find Grindelwald."


	18. Nurmengard

**~Surrender~**

**Rating: M** for slash (homoerotic relationship)

**Warning:** This is a Harry Potter/Voldemort romance set during Harry's sixth year at Hogwarts. Read at your own risk.

**Author's Note: **The wonderful _Gamma Orionis_ has issued a challenge I was not able to resist: Write 10,000 words in 10 days. Since I accepted this challenge March 2, that means that I will write 10K words of this story (this chapter and two more?) before March 12, so stand by for rapid updates!

**...**

**~Chapter 18: Nurmengard~**

**...**

"This," whispered Harry as he looked up at the dark walls of Nurmengard, "must be the loneliest place in the world."

The ragged outline of a vast stone building rose before them, without any visible doors or windows to break the black desolation of stone. The landscape around the fortress was a bare and rocky waste, as if no living thing could grow in the somber shadows of the looming stone walls. It was cold, and a brittle frost lay over the barren ground, which stretched away, grey and lifeless, to the black sea. Only a few smooth dark blocks of stone lay on the frost-hard earth, like some long forgotten ancient altars to dark and silent gods. Above, the early morning sky was grey as pewter and cold as steel. A wind was rising from the sea, and it bore with it an icy scent of salt and brine. No gulls or other sea-birds were to be heard; the fortified stone building was surrounded by a silence so deep that it felt as if all sounds had died from the world.

"No need for dementors in a place like this..." Sirius shuddered slightly, and Remus reached silently for his hand.

"A strange thought, isn't it," said Tom softly, "that this is a prison of Grindelwald's own design, built to house all those who stood against him on his way to power. And here he sits, behind these black walls, imprisoned for life in his own dark dream." He led the other three around to the side of the vast fortress. "See, here is the gate that he built; I do not think he ever dreamed that he would one day enter through it himself."

The paused in front of a black marble gate that seemed as impenetrable as the prison itself. Above the heavy stone doors, Harry could make out faded letters, hewn into the dark fortress itself: _For the Greater Good._

Harry ran his hand over the cold, ungiving marble of the doors. There was no handle or keyhole, just a blank expanse of black stone. "How do we get in?"

Tom studied the door carefully. He drew the elder wand and muttered a few spells under his breath, but to no avail. "Not through this door; it has been permanently and magically sealed. No living man is meant to enter or leave this fortress."

"But what about the guards, then?" Remus gazed up at the dark fortress. "Don't they ever go home?"

"There are no guards." Tom studied the Marauders' Map. "They must all have left long ago. There is no one here but an old man, alone with his sins and his memories. I can see him on the map; he is up in the highest tower."

"Grindelwald is here alone? Then what holds him imprisoned?" Sirius was pale.

"Perhaps the magic of the fortress itself." Tom clutched the map, which threatened to blow away in the icy wind. "But we _will _find a way to break through the wards. If I may ask, Mr. Black - how did you get out of Azkaban?"

"Through the door." A shadow of a smile flickered across Sirius' face for a moment, although his voice shook a little. "The most obvious answer is often the best."

Tom frowned. "Through the door? But what about the dementors?"

Sirius shivered. "They did not recognize me. I am an animagus, you see, and I was in my dog form when I managed to escape. I had been a dog for so long that I daresay my soul had become a little less human at that point... Perhaps that is why they couldn't sense me."

Tom stood in silence and thought for a moment. "Becoming a dog won't help you here, Mr. Black, but perhaps becoming a bird..." He leaned his head back and gazed up at the black tower that loomed against the faint morning light. "Broomsticks, Harry?"

Harry pulled three miniature broomsticks from the pocket of his robes, but before Tom could restore them all to their proper size, the wind took hold of one and carried it off. Harry dashed after it, but Tom called after him: "Never mind, love. Let's not waste time looking for it; I will carry you."

Tom spoke the words that turned the two remaining tiny brooms into proper broomsticks for Sirius and Remus. "Ready, gentlemen?"

Sirius and Remus mounted their brooms without a word, and Tom flung his arms around Harry. "Hang on tight, love. I will need to use the elder wand to break through the wards once we are near the tower, so I will only have one arm free to hold you."

Harry nodded silently and wrapped his arms around Tom. "Is this too tight? Am I hurting you?"

Tom laughed. "Hurting me? No, love; you can never hold on too tight as far as I'm concerned." He lifted off from the ground in a smooth, effortless movement. Harry could feel the rush of cold air against his face as they flew, and his robes were flapping wildly around him. But he could sense the warmth from Tom's limbs through his clothes, and Tom's face was so close that Harry's lips brushed against his skin.

"Do you like flying like this, Harry?" The rush of wind overpowered Tom's voice, but Harry could hear his voice inside his mind. Tom's mouth found Harry's, and Harry smiled into the kiss.

"I love it! It makes flying on a broomstick seem strangely non-magical in comparison. Can you teach me to fly like this, too, Tom?"

"If you like." There was laughter in Tom's silver eyes. "Between us, we could take the Hogwarts Quidditch matches to a whole new level... Hold on tight, Harry - I'm going to try and break through the wards. Mr. Black and Mr. Lupin, keep an eye out for any surprises."

They were close to the dark tower now, and Harry could make out a tall narrow window, made of strange, thick glass that gleamed like dark water in the cold grey-white morning light. For a fleeting moment, he thought he saw the pale oval of a face behind the glass, but then it was gone.

An incantation in some old and unknown tongue fell from Tom's lips, and silver sparks flew from the elder wand. But the glittering sparks stopped a few feet from the window and hovered in the still morning air. Tom tried again, and more silver sparks joined the first, forming a brilliant line a short distance from the window.

A white face pressed against the glass now, but Harry could not make out its expression. Was Grindelwald frightened at the arrival of his wind-born visitors, or hopeful?

"The magic wards are too strong... Why can't the magic of the elder wand break through them?" Tom sounded puzzled. "According to the legends, one becomes the master of the wand by overpowering its former owner. The former owner of the wand is sitting helpless in his office, bound by my magic, and I have stolen his wand - one would think that should be sufficient to make me the wand's master."

"What?" Harry stared at him for a moment. Then he whispered: "But you weren't the one who took the wand from Dumbledore, Tom. That was _me_. You tied him up, and I stole the wand." He put his hand over Tom's. "So that makes us _both_ the masters of the elder wand - _together._"

Harry could feel the magic of the wand stir under their hands. "Try it now, Tom. Try the incantation again!"

And Tom spoke the ancient words again, and this time, the silver sparks were brighter than stars as they flew through the morning sky. As they neared the window, Harry heard a sound like something ripping and tearing. The wards were coming down!

Tom drew a deep breath and kissed Harry gently on the lips. "Brilliant, love. Gentlemen, I believe the path is clear. All that remains is breaking a window."

But without warning, a feathered storm hurled itself through the still morning air, and Harry felt a sharp pain in his arm. Something was clawing at his wand hand, and he cried out in pain.

It was a monstrous bird, the size of a man and deep red as a wound. Its eyes were cold and pale, and its feathers were dark as blood. What bird was this? Surely no natural thing, for something deep in the grey-white eyes seemed human... Harry cried out again as he tried to fight the foul thing off. He could feel talons slashing frantically at his chest.

To Harry's relief, an answering cry sounded nearby. "We are here, Harry. Tom, we are here!"

The cruel talons of the bird were clawing at Tom's cheek, but the next moment, the bird let out a terrifying shriek. Something was tearing at its dark crimson wings, and Harry stared, uncomprehending, at the black dog that had suddenly appeared at his side.

"Si-Sirius?"

There was no response, just a ferocious howl and the sickening crunch of bones as the dog snapped the bird's neck. The dog tossed its head, and the dying bird sank through the air and fell, like a comet of blood and torn flesh, to the dark ground below.

"Steady now, Harry!" Tom spoke softly in Harry's ear. "You let go of me there for a minute. But I wasn't going to let you fall."

Harry stared at the large black dog which still hovered, impossibly, by his side in the morning air. Then the dog flickered and changed, and Sirius' familiar form appeared, a trickle of crimson blood still running down his chin. Sirius wiped the blood off with his sleeve, and there was still something in his glittering eyes that seemed only half-human.

"Sirius? How did you-?" It took Harry a moment to find his voice.

Sirius grinned. "Transform while on a broomstick? I must admit that it was a first. It was Remus' idea, actually. When we saw that... that _thing_ come towards you, we realized that you needed help. We fired a few curses at it, but they had no effect. So Remus used his robes to tie me to his broomstick, so tightly that I wouldn't fall off, and he steered while I attacked..." He glanced down. "What _was _that thing, anyway?"

"No idea." Tom shivered slightly. "Apparently, some ancient evil guarding this fortress. It did not show up on the map before, so it must not be human, although its eyes could deceive anyone..."

**...**

"Ah, the wind has brought me visitors!" With an unexpected gesture of old-world courtesy, the old man rose from the stone floor upon their arrival and bowed his head in greeting. "I am afraid I have little refreshment to offer you, although there is usually some bread and water appearing around midday."

Harry studied Gellert Grindelwald curiously. The man before them was very old and very thin, and his steel-grey hair hung long and unkempt around his haggard face. But there was a strange power in the dark blue gaze that swept over the four visitors, and Harry knew at once that Dumbledore's victory over Grindelwald had not come easily.

"To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?" Grindelwald's voice was deep and pleasant, although speaking seemed to cause him some slight trouble. Perhaps this was the first time he had spoken in fifty years.

"We have come to ask you a few questions, if we may." It was Tom who spoke. "About a wizard by the name of Albus Dumbledore, who was once a friend of yours."

Grindelwald's eyes became watchful. "And who might you be, my young friend? No ordinary man, it seems, for I could see you and your companions through the window. It seems that you are able to fly, and your friend the animagus killed the ghoghnus."

Harry shuddered slightly. "The... ghoghnus? What _was_ it? I have never seen a creature like that before."

A shadow of a smile passed over Grindelwald's pale, tired face. "Haven't you? And yet your friend mentioned Albus Dumbledore, who used to have a bird very much like it."

"A bird like _that_?" Harry was puzzled. "No, I don't think Dumbledore has ever had such a vile creature. He has a pet bird, it is true, but his bird is a phoenix."

"Ah, so you know of Fawkes, then?" There was a slight glint, as of laughter, in Grindelwald's deep blue eyes. "Yes, Fawkes is a phoenix, but so, young man, was _that._" He nodded at the window. "That bird you met in the sky."

"_What_?" Harry stared at him. "_That_ was a phoenix? No, that can't be right! A phoenix is a lovely life-giving creature, but _that_ thing..."

"_That_ thing, the ghoghnus, is its brother," finished Grindelwald softly. "Quite different, indeed, from the phoenix you have seen, but related nonetheless, as good and evil always are... Some call the ghoghnus "the phoenix of darkness". According to legend, the first ghoghnus was born as the loveliest phoenix, but when it chose darkness and evil in its heart, a terrible transformation came over it, and its outer form became as terrible as the fury it bore in its heart."

Tom was pale. "Yes, I am familiar with transformations like that..."

"Are you?" Grindelwald's shrewd glance lingered on Tom's face. "May I ask your name?"

Tom was silent for a moment. Then he said: "My name is Tom Riddle. I was once known as The Dark Lord."

A slight smile hovered at the corner of Grindelwald's mouth. "Were you? How curious... I was known by similar names once. But that was long ago."

"Before you were defeated by Albus Dumbledore, who was once your friend," said Harry softly.

There came into Grindelwald's eyes a flicker of strange tenderness. "Albus. Yes, he was my friend once. In the beginning, when we were both young. So endlessly long ago... I can see him in my mind's eye still, the way he was then, with his fiery hair and his ready laughter..."

"You were in love with him." Harry spoke quietly.

Grindelwald looked startled. "Now, who do you know that, my young friend?"

Harry could feel his cheeks growing hot. "Dumbledore told me."

"He _told _you-?" Grindelwald shook his head slowly. "I would have thought that Albus would have tried very hard to forget my unwelcome advances."

"He told me under veritaserum." Harry swallowed. "He said that you once confessed that you loved him, and that he told you that he could never love you back."

Grindelwald's dark blue gaze drifted towards the open window. "That is how it was, yes. That simple, and that heartbreaking."

Harry leaned forward. "Dumbledore also told me that he lied to you."

"Lied to me?" Grindelwald looked puzzled. "About what?"

Harry drew a deep breath. "About his feelings for you. He told you that he didn't love you, but he lied..."

"What-? What are you saying-?" Grindelwald crossed the floor in a few rapid strides and grabbed Harry by the shoulders. His face was whiter than snow. "Can this be true? He _lied _to me? But why? _Why-?"_

"Because," whispered Harry, "he thought it was his duty..."

"His duty-?" Grindelwald's voice was almost inaudible. "His _duty-_?"

"He thought he had to do it for the greater good, you see..."

A sudden shaky laugh escaped Grindelwald. "By Merlin, that _is _the sort of thing he would do, isn't it?" He sank down on the stone floor. "Oh, damn. He _loved_ me, just as I loved him, and yet he let me believe for the better part of a century that he felt nothing for me..." He sat in silence for a long moment. Then he said to Tom: "Could I trouble you for a favor, young man? I had resigned myself to living out the remainder of my days in this solitary fortress, but now... Now I must find a way to escape. For I have a few things to say to my old friend Albus... You are able to fly, it seems, and you have dispelled the magic wards that kept me imprisoned here _and _conveniently broken the window as well. Would you be so kind as to bring me to Albus Dumbledore? Preferably while the ghoghnus is still dead; it has a habit of rising again. "

Tom nodded. "I might be able to do that, in exchange for a small favor."

"A favor?" Grindelwald got to his feet. "I fail to see what favor an old prisoner could possibly offer you, Mr. Riddle, but I will gladly do whatever you ask of me."

"I simply need a piece of information," said Tom gently. "We need to know what the most significant moment in Albus Dumbledore's life was, and we need the year and date, as accurately as possible."

"What?" Grindelwald blinked slowly. "That's a terribly odd thing to ask... But if that is the price for my freedom, I would be glad to help. The most significant moment in his life must have been- Well, until a moment ago, I would have said that it was the day in May 1945 when he vanquished me in a wizarding duel. Or perhaps the day in August 1899, when his young sister died. There was a terrible accident, you see, and we never knew whose curse it was that killed her, his or mine..."

"His," said Harry quietly.

Grindelwald stared at him. "Was it? Poor Albus..." He shook his head slightly. "As I said, I would have thought that perhaps that moment would have been the most significant one in his life, except-" He swallowed. "Except, now that I know that he _lied _to me all these years, I'm wondering if the moment that I would have named as the most meaningful one in my own life perhaps held a similar meaning for him."

"What was the date, sir?" asked Tom gently.

A slight flush brushed over Grindelwald's cheeks. "June 18, 1899. I kissed him under the old apple tree and told him that I loved him more than life itself." He closed his eyes for a moment. "And he looked at me with an expression of infinite sadness and told me that he could never love me back." Grindelwald walked slowly over to the window and gazed out at the grey sky. "Just _wait_ until I get my hands on that lying bastard..."


	19. 1899

**~Surrender~**

**Rating: M** for slash (homoerotic relationship)

**Warning:** This is a Harry Potter/Voldemort romance set during Harry's sixth year at Hogwarts. Read at your own risk.

**Author's Note: **Thank you so much for following this story! As you may have gathered, this fic is about to come to an end - just another few chapters left, I think. But I have begun working on a new Harry/Tom story, which will be called _To the Waters and the Wild_. The first chapter will be posted soon.

**...**

**~Chapter 18: 1899~**

**...**

_June 15, 1899_

Even before Harry opened his eyes, he knew that it was spring. A sweet fragrance of hawthorn and wild berberis lingered in the air, and he felt a mild breeze against his face. Harry breathed in the scents of the century-old season, so curiously similar to those of last year's spring.

He opened his eyes slowly to the light of a day that had come and gone long before he was born. The ancient castle, the tall shady oaks, and the dark lake he knew so well came into view, so familiar that he wondered for a moment if the time turner had worked properly.

But the small boy who stood in front of him and stared, wide-eyed, at Harry, Tom, and Snape, was no Hogwarts student Harry had ever seen. He sounded a little breathless, but there was no fear in his voice as he whispered:

"What _are _you? Are you ghosts?"

Harry unwound the long chain of the time turner from the three travelers and hid the golden clockwork quickly under his robes. "Ghosts? No, of course not. We are just visitors to the castle. Why would you think we were ghosts?"

The little boy from long ago put his head to one side and regarded them with a look of great interest. "Everyone knows that you can't apparate onto the Hogwarts grounds. But you just did, so you can't be ordinary wizards."

"I see." Harry smiled at him. The child was dressed in Slytherin robes, but his face seemed friendly and merry, and Harry rather liked the way his hair was sticking up rebelliously in the back. "We are wizards like you; we just happen to be very good at magic. No need to worry - we are merely here to see someone."

The boy studied them all in silence for a moment with wide blue eyes. Then he said slowly: "You have come for the Lady, haven't you?"

"The Lady?" Snape grabbed the boy's arm. "How in Merlin's name-? Do you think he means Lily? Quick, boy, tell me what you know about her. Where is she?"

"Let go of him, Severus. It won't do to frighten him." Tom freed the boy gently from Snape's grasp. "Now, why do you think we are here to see the Lady?"

The boy rubbed his arm. "Well, you seem to be rather extraordinary people, even for wizards, and you appeared out of nowhere, just like the Lady did."

Tom smiled. "Ah, I see. You seem to be a very clever boy. I'm Tom, by the way, and these are my friends Harry and Severus."

The boy shook their hands solemnly. "A pleasure to meet you. I'm Phineas. Phineas Black."

"_What_?" Harry stared at the child. "_You_ are Phineas Nigellus Black? No, you can't be." He tried desperately to imagine a portrait of the little boy speaking to him in haughty tones from the walls of a future headmaster's office, but he failed miserably.

Tom laughed. "He may be Phineas Black, but he is not Phineas _Nigellus_ Black, Harry. There _is _a very slight resemblance, but the time period is all wrong."

The boy's face fell. "Phineas Nigellus Black? Oh, you are just here to see Father, then? The headmaster? I didn't think he would know people like you, people who apparate where others can't. Most of his friends are from the Ministry, and they are terribly old stuffy and tedious. They creak like old furniture when they walk, and they always talk to you as if they are reading out of one of those dusty books with Gothic letters. But _you..._ You seem strange and exciting, just like the Lady." He glanced up at them with shining eyes.

"Your father-? You are the son of Phineas Nigellus Black?" Harry tried to recall the tapestry he had once seen at Grimmauld Place and the stories Sirius had told. Yes, Phineas Nigellus _had_ had a son who was named after him, hadn't he? Another Phineas, who had been blasted off the family tree? Looking at the mischievous blue eyes of the little boy from the past, Harry didn't feel at all surprised that he had ended up as a singed hole on the Black family tree.

"I suppose you need me to take you to Father." Phineas sounded slightly depressed at the thought.

Harry shook his head firmly. "No, I don't think there is any need to bother the headmaster. I am sure your father must be a very busy man. We are here for the Lady, Phineas, as you have already guessed. She is in the hospital wing, isn't she?"

Phineas nodded eagerly. "Yes, she has been there for weeks, ever since she first arrived here. It was the head boy who first found her, Albus Dumbledore. He brought her to the hospital wing, but no one has been able to wake her up from her enchanted sleep. It's all terribly exciting, really. Madam Smethwyck has tried every spell and potion she can think of, but to no avail." He glanced hopefully at Harry. "But _you _will know how to wake her up, won't you?"

Harry's hand closed around the elder wand in his pocket. "Yes, I think I can do that. Let's go and find her. No need to let anyone know we are here, Phineas."

"Of course not!" Phineas grinned and walked with them over the grounds towards the castle. "It will just be between you and me. I say, do you think you could teach me how to apparate inside Hogwarts while you are here? It would be very handy to be able to apparate out of detention sometimes..."

Harry shook his head. "Afraid we can't do that, Phineas. Sorry. We would do it if we could."

"You could of course just try to stay out of trouble in the first place," muttered Snape, glancing down at the small boy.

Phineas sighed. "That's exactly what Father says, but it's much harder than it sounds, sir. There are so many rules here, it's easy to forget a few. And some of them don't even make much sense. What's wrong with bringing a few friends and watching a Quidditch match in the headmaster's Pensieve when he is busy with staff meetings? Or giving poor Peeves a few violin lessons? I wasn't even the one who told Peeves about the acoustics in the head boy's room - that was Aberforth - but somehow, I always end up getting blamed for everything. Oh, I _do_ hope Albus won't be in the infirmary when we get there! He is such a pain, I'm sure he will be headmaster one day, just like Father. He even docked his own brother ten points for singing in the hallway last week."

"Does the head boy spend much time in the infirmary, then?" asked Tom conversationally as they entered the castle.

Phineas giggled. "Albus? Yes, he spends so much time by the lady's side that some people think he's in _love _with her. She is frightfully pretty, of course, but I just can't picture Dumbledore in _love_." He grimaced and led them up the stairs towards the hospital wing. There were very few students to be seen; perhaps they were all outside in the lovely weather.

"Oh, damn," whispered Phineas as they pushed open the door to the infirmary. "Albus _is_ here. Well, I suppose I will be off then. I'm _technically _supposed to be in detention with Professor Beery right now, you see, but I sort of forgot..." He gave a cheerful wave and vanished discreetly.

Harry's mouth felt dry as dust as he walked into the infirmary. What if his mother wasn't here, in this unfamiliar time, after all?

But the shimmering blue-white light of spring that slanted through the infirmary windows made something glow like fire, and Harry's breath caught in his throat as he caught a glimpse of his mother's hair and her pale face.

The next moment, Harry was pushed aside as Snape ran past him, firing two rapid stunning spells. An elderly nurse and a boy with wild copper-colored curls both crumpled to the floor.

"Nice move, Severus!" Tom turned and pointed his wand at the door behind them. He muttered something under his breath that appeared to be a series of complicated spells, presumably designed to keep anyone else from entering the infirmary.

Harry ran across the room and sank down by his mother's bed. "Mum? You are _here_! Are you all right?"

Snape was kneeling by Lily's bed, tears streaming down his face now. "She's here. Oh, Merlin, she is _here! _She's alive... Harry, quick, use to elder wand to revive her!"

Harry nodded. He could feel the ancient wand trembling in his hand as he spoke the incantation: "_Finite Incantatem!_"

Lily stirred slightly now, and Harry watched breathlessly as she slowly opened her eyes.

"Mum?"

Lily's green gaze met his. "Harry? Oh, there you are, love - I was so terribly afraid for a moment that you wouldn't be real... But you are here! Wherever _here_ is..." She reached out for Harry, and pulled him down into a long hug. "And you too, Severus."

Harry pulled back, and Snape gathered Lily in his arms. Harry glanced discreetly away.

"We should go." Tom kicked copper-haired boy on the floor lightly. "Before the seventeen year old Albus Dumbledore wakes up and makes trouble for us... I wonder how much he knows about the doings of his future self?" He fished a wand out of the boy's robes and tucked it into his own pocket. "Just in case..."

"Let's kill him before we go," muttered Snape indistinctly, his face buried in Lily's hair. "I'll do it. I did give him my word, after all, and it's a promise I'd be happy to keep."

"Kill Dumbledore?" Harry stared at the lovely elfin face of the unconscious boy on the floor, so familiar, and yet so utterly different from the face of the old man he had known. "No, Professor, you can't-"

"I'm afraid Harry is right." Tom shook his head slowly. "Tempting as it is to do so, I'm not sure we want to return to our own time and find the Dark Lord Grindelwald ruling the wizarding world. It was Dumbledore, after all, who defeated him, and killing the young Albus now would set in motion a chain of events that could lead to a very different future."

"That's not what I meant, Tom." Harry tried to keep his voice steady. "We can't kill the seventeen year old Dumbledore because he is _innocent..._ He has never plotted to kill my mother or kept her captive in a strange time. He has never told us that you and I need to die in order for the world to be set right. _That_ was all an old man's doing, not _his..._"

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, Harry." Tom sighed deeply. "This boy _is _that old man. They are one and the same."

Harry brushed a finger lightly over Tom's cheek and whispered: "Just like Tom Riddle and Voldemort?"

A deep flush passed over Tom's angelic features. "I see your point, love. But don't forget: Phineas told us that the young Albus Dumbledore has been the one keeping watch over your mother. Perhaps he is not nearly as innocent as he looks."

"Let's find out!" Harry pointed the elder wand at the unconscious boy. "_Enervate!"_

The boy didn't stir.

"Erm... I added a few wordless spells to Severus' stunning spells, just in case." Tom's silver eyes glittered.

Harry sighed. "All right. _Finite Incantatem__!_"

The boy with the copper ringlets groaned softly and sat up. He opened his eyes, and a pair of bright blue eyes regarded the three visitors with wonder.

"Who are you?" There was no recognition in the familiar blue eyes. But then the boy's glance fell on the unconscious nurse on the floor and on Lily, and he staggered to his feet.

"The Lady!" His face was white. "What have you done to her? Why is she no longer slumbering? She can't leave here, she _can't..._" There was an edge of panic to his voice, and he searched frantically for his wand.

"Why can't she leave, Albus?" asked Harry gently.

The boy stared at him, wide-eyed. "Because... Because the old man told me that I am to watch over her night and day, to guard her with my own life." A puzzled look passed over his pale elfin face. "How very odd... I used to feel that I needed to do everything the old man told me, but now..." He shook his head slightly. "Now it feels as if some enchantment has been lifted from my soul."

"The _Finite Incantatem!_" breathed Tom in Harry's ear. "I think he is right, Harry! An enchantment has been lifted from him. The Imperius curse, perhaps?"

"The Imperius curse?" Harry sank down on one of the empty hospital beds. "You mean that Dumbledore traveled back in time and imperiused _himself_? He _really_ doesn't trust anyone, does he?"

Tom laughed. "Not even himself, apparently."

Albus had been staring at Harry. "Your eyes-" His voice was a hoarse whisper. "You... You have the Lady's eyes... The old man told me to watch out for a green-eyed boy. He said that you would bring danger, and that you would try to take her away. I can't let you do that."

"Kill him." Snape didn't even turn around. "Don't overthink it, Harry. Just do it, or let me-"

"No." Harry got to his feet. "I will not harm him, and I will not let anyone else do it either. He is just a boy, and he can't help any of this."

Tom shook his head slowly. "Merlin! You really are impossibly soft-hearted, love." He kissed Harry softly and lingeringly on the lips.

Albus' blue eyes widened. "What... What are you _doing_? You can't kiss him."

"Oh, give me the elder wand, love. He really _is _getting tedious." Tom reached for the wand, but Harry held it just out of his reach.

"You can't harm him, Tom. Oath, remember?"

"But he thinks I shouldn't _kiss _you, because..." Tom turned to Albus. "Because of what, exactly?"

A deep flush passed over the boy's pale cheeks. "Because it is unnatural and wicked. Boys are not meant to do that with _each other. _It' just not right."

Harry sighed. "How could it possibly be wicked to love someone, Albus?" he said gently. "It strikes me as far more wicked and unnatural _not_ to love. In fact, if a boy you liked were ever to try to kiss you, I think you should kiss him right back. The world would be a better place for it."

"I will do no such thing!" Albus' blue eyes were flashing. "I could _never..._ I wouldn't even want to, not really. And besides, Gellert is just a friend, no matter what people say. I just admire his cleverness and his wit, that is all. And for your information, I am planning to propose to Hazel Doge in a few years. She is a very sweet girl, and everyone says she is pretty. She is a good friend of my sister's, although I fail to see why she would _want_ to spend time with my half-crazed sister. Perhaps it's just an excuse to get closer to me. Poor Ariana isn't quite right in the head, but Hazel feels sorry for her, I think. I just don't think Hazel understands how tedious it is to live with someone like that all the time, and to make sacrifice after sacrifice..."

"Your sister?" whispered Harry. "Listen, Albus, about your sister-" He swallowed. "Later this summer, you will raise your wand to her, and there will be a terrible accident. It will be your curse that kills her, and you will never forget it for the rest of your life. Don't let it happen, Albus."

Albus was whiter than snow. "I will kill Ariana? Why are you saying these terrible things to me? Are you some sort of seer?"

"Perhaps I am." Harry tried to keep his voice steady. He put his hands of the boy's shoulders and looked into his eyes. "It's your one last chance, Albus. Try to love someone. Try to feel some compassion in your heart. It's you one chance. Try to be a human being, Albus. I have-" He swallowed. "I have seen what you'll be otherwise..."

"He warned me against you." Albus' voice was a whisper now. "The old man told me not to listen to you. And even if I am no longer under his spell, I can see that he was right. He said that the green-eyed boy was dangerous." He reached out and brushed Harry's hair away from his forehead with a pale hand. "You have a scar, just like he said, and that is how evil entered you." The blue gaze lingered on Harry's face. "It's a pity that you have to die, for you really are a very beautiful boy. But your death will be necessary, for the greater good... _He_ will see to that."

"We are leaving!" Tom yanked Harry away from Albus and pulled the time turner out from his robes. "There is no hope for him, Harry. Let's bring your mother home." He pulled Lily and Snape closer and wound the golden chain of the time turner around all of them. "He will never change." Tom began spinning the delicate clockwork rapidly as he spoke.

The pale copper-haired boy whispered: "I will never surrender to evil and wickedness, as the green-eyed boy did... Never..."

...

There was a small crowd gathered outside the door to the headmaster's office when the arrived back at Hogwarts in their own time.

"You are safely back!" James, Remus and Sirius immediately darted out of the crowd and greeted Harry and Lily with warm hugs. To Harry's surprise, the Marauders even shook Snape's hand, which made Snape wince a little.

"What is going on in there?" Tom nodded his head towards the door. Loud, angry shouts were heard from within, followed by the sounds of splintering furniture and exploding curses. Harry could make out the roar of Grindelwald's voice: "You _lied _to me, you bastard...I don't care what your reasons were! You had no right... Look me in the eye when I'm speaking to you, you coward!" More cracks were heard from within, and smoke began to seep out from under the door. They could hear a second voice now, much fainter than the first. "I can't look at you, Gellert..."

"That," said Minerva McGonagall serenely, a slight smile hovering at the corners of her mouth, "is the surrender of Albus Dumbledore."


	20. Surrendered

**~Surrender~**

**Rating: M** for slash (homoerotic relationship)

**Warning:** This is a Harry Potter/Voldemort romance set during Harry's sixth year at Hogwarts. Read at your own risk.

**Author's Note: **This is the final chapter of this story. Thank you so much for following the story all the way to the end, and thank you for all the reviews and favorites and encouraging words along the way.

I'm going to take a little break now (*looks at the stack of work that has been ignored for a while with a sigh*), but I will be back in a month or so. I am working on a new Harry/Voldemort romance entitled _To the Waters and the Wild - _the first chapter will be posted next month!

**...**

**~Chapter 20: Surrendered~**

**...**

Harry pushed the door to Dumbledore's office open. "What in Merlin's name-?"

He stood for a moment in the doorway and stared at the wild chaos that had once been the headmaster's workspace. Delicate silver instruments lay shattered among shards of glass and torn books. Half of the headmaster's desk was gone, apparently blown up by a curse, and papers and quills were scattered everywhere. The Pensieve was lying on its side, and silver swirls of memories were evaporating from their broken vials. Fawkes had taken refuge on the highest shelf next to the Sorting Hat, and he contributed to the general disorder by throwing old leather-bound books down at the headmaster at intervals. The Sorting Hat was awake, and it appeared to be egging the bird on. Some of the portraits of old headmasters and headmistresses were covering their eyes, while others were cheering.

Dumbledore himself was curled up against the half-splintered desk, surrounded by torn pieces of parchment, remnants of morocco-bound volumes on the Dark Arts, and crushed lemon drops. His face was white, and his half-moon spectacles were nowhere to be seen. The magical ropes Tom had cast on him were shattered, but he was still crouching on the floor. His long white hair was in disarray, and there was an expression on his face that Harry had never seen before. The headmaster looked... frightened?

Grindelwald stood before the headmaster, still dressed in his thin prison rags. His gaunt face was distorted with anger, and his dark blue eyes flashed.

"You lied to me, Albus!" He grabbed the front of the headmaster's robes and forced the old man to look into his face. "_Why_?"

Dumbledore tried desperately to avoid his glance. "It was necessary, Gellert. It was the right thing to do." His voice sounded curiously weak, almost pleading. "It would have been so easy to love you. Merlin knows it would have been the easiest thing in the world. But sometimes one has to make a choice between what is right and what is easy."

"And _some_ people," said Grindelwald through gritted teeth, "when given a choice between something that is _both_ right and easy on the one hand and something that is wrong and painfully difficult on the other, still manage to choose that which is both difficult and wrong, out of a perverted sense of duty. How did you manage to convince yourself that it was wrong to love your best friend, Albus?"

He kicked the upended Pensieve moodily and glanced around at the shattered vials that had contained Dumbledore's memories. "You seem to have a rather extensive collection of bottled memories, Albus. Are these uncomfortable recollections you no longer wanted to keep inside your head? Rather a relief to remove them and bottle them up sometimes, I suspect? Was I among those memories you chose to put away?"

Dumbledore closed his eyes. "How can I get you to understand?"

"Understand _what_?" Grindelwald tightened his grip on the headmaster and shook him like a rag doll, his voice rising to a furious roar. "That you let me live for a century with the belief that the one person I could ever love had no feelings for me? We could have been lovers all these years, instead of enemies."

"Don't you understand, Gellert-?" Dumbledore's voice was a whimper. "You were a dangerous man. You chose a dark and perilous path, a path I could not follow. Should I have let you lead me into the darkness as well?"

Grindelwald looked at Dumbledore for a long moment. "Lead you into darkness? Who knows what path I would have taken, had I not been alone, Albus? Perhaps there would have been no Dark Lord Grindelwald, if you had been with me. Who knows what I would have become, had I known that someone loved me?" He touched Dumbledore's face lightly. "And who knows what _you_ would have become, had someone loved you back?"

Dumbledore met his glance for an instant, then turned away, a hectic flush on his cheeks. "It's too late for that, Gellert. We became what we are, you and I. What does it matter now, so many years later?"

"What does it matter?" Grindelwald's voice trembled. "We both paid for your lie with a century of misery. How many more years do you want to waste? Surrender, Albus! For once in your life, surrender to your true feelings. Leave your castle and your books and all your schemes behind and come with me, while we still have a few months or years left to live."

A shaky little laugh escaped Dumbledore. "Are you mad, Gellert? Come with you? Why would I do such a thing?"

Grindelwald leaned closer. "Because you love me in your heart, even now, Albus. And because I know that when you finally dare to look into my eyes, you _will_ surrender."

"I will not surrender," whispered Dumbledore. "I am not afraid of you."

Grindelwald laughed. "Yes, you are, Albus. You are more afraid of me than anything in the whole world." He brushed Dumbledore's cheek. "Look at me, Albus. Look at me if you dare."

And slowly, ever so slowly, Albus Dumbledore turned his face and looked into Grindelwald's eyes. He did not speak for a very long time. Then he lifted his blackened hand and buried it in Grindelwald's hair. His bright blue eyes filled with tears, and suddenly Harry felt as if he recognized the seventeen-year-old boy in the old man's face. Dumbledore's lips moved, and he whispered so softly that it was difficult to hear him: "I surrender..."

...

When Harry came out of the headmaster's office, the crowd gathered outside had grown even larger.

"What is happening?" Ginny pushed her way through the throng of students. "Are you all right, Harry? What is happening to the headmaster?"

"I'm fine." Harry found Tom in the crowd and squeezed his hand. "And perhaps the headmaster will be, too, in the end. I believe he has just decided to retire from his post and spend some time with an old friend."

"Is it true what they are saying, that the headmaster doesn't have long left to live?" Ginny's brown eyes were full of worry.

"Well, his hand..." began Harry, but Tom interrupted: "His hand would be just fine if he allowed a _competent _wizard with a proper wand to take a look at it. No offense, Severus."

Snape, who was standing a little apart from the others with his arms around Lily, didn't even turn around. "Oh, who cares?" he muttered into Lily's hair.

Ginny stared at Tom's handsome pale face and dark curls. "Who on earth are _you_? You almost look like... like Tom Riddle, the boy from the diary, but you _can't _be... Can you?" She glanced down at Tom's hand, which was caressing Harry's.

Tom shrugged and put an arm around Harry. "It's a _very_ long story."

"And a rather complicated one." Sirius, Remus and James elbowed their way through the crowd. They had long since abandoned their schoolboy disguises, and Harry smiled as he saw the three familiar faces.

"Professor Lupin?" Ginny's eyes widened. "Back at Hogwarts? And... and... _Sirius Black_?" Her face turned white. "But you are _dead. _You fell through the Veil at the Ministry."

"As I said, it's a complicated story, Ginny." James beamed at her.

"Ha-Harry?" Ginny gazed at James in utter bewilderment. But..." She looked from James to Harry and back to James.

James laughed. "No, I'm not Harry - I'm his father. We met earlier, remember? We played Quidditch together, and afterwards I asked you out, only you said no... Oh, that's right, you wouldn't have known that it was me, because of the polyjuice potion. Sirius and Lily and I couldn't come into the castle as ourselves, since everyone thought we were still dead, so we had to pretend to be someone else. I told you my name was Jim Prongs, and Lily used the name Calla, and Remus and Sirius were Lionel and Cygnus."

"_You _are Jim Prongs? And you are Harry's dead father?" Ginny's voice was a whisper.

"It's all right, Ginny." Ron appeared by her side now. He patted his sister's arm gently. "Hermione and I thought it was odd at first, too. But Voldemort turned into Tom Riddle and decided to go back to school and date Harry, you see, so he became Draco Malfoy, and he brought Harry's parents back from the dead, but his Mum disappeared and it turned out that she was trapped in Dumbledore's youth, and..."

"What?"

"Oh, that didn't come out right. Sorry. I'll try again. See, Voldemort _didn't _kiss Blaise Zabini, because he was bringing Cedric Diggory back from the dead instead, and now Harry's aunt and uncle are house elves at Malfoy Manor, and Professor Snape will marry Harry's dead mother, and..."

"_What_?"

"Perhaps you should let me explain this to Ginny instead, Ron," came Hermione's voice nearby, but Ron went on:

"And Grindelwald was alone in the tower, but Sirius turned into a dog on a broom and killed the phoenix, and the boy who was a hole in Sirius' tapestry told them that the Lady was sleeping, but Dumbledore had imperiused himself, and..."

"Ron?" Ginny buried her head in her hands. "Just stop, okay? I'm getting a headache."

She glanced up and studied James' and Harry's faces for a long moment. "I don't understand _any_ of this, but... But you really do look just like Harry, James, except for your eyes. And the scar; you don't have the scar, of course... But your hair even sticks up in the back in the same way, and you have the same smile." She whispered: "You are _Harry, _except that you are a little older, and you look at me just as I had hoped that _he _would look at me one day... But how can you be his father when you only seem to be about ten years older than him?"

"Oh, I haven't aged because I've been dead for the past fifteen years." James smiled, but when he noticed the expression on Ginny's face, he added quickly. "But I'm not a ghost or anything. I'm just me. I'll explain it all later."

"And you are no longer married to Harry's mother? She will really marry _Professor Snape?_"

James grimaced. "I'm afraid so. It's a terribly odd thing for anyone to want to do, of course, but she seems to like him for some reason."

Ginny regarded James for a long moment. Finally she said: "Perhaps... Perhaps we can play Quidditch some time, James?"

James' face split into a wide grin. "Quidditch? With you? Yes, I would like that. And perhaps we could think of a few tricks to play on Severus some time? Together?"

Ginny smiled up at him. "Yes. Yes, we can do that. You should come to my house and meet my older brothers over the Christmas holiday, James. I think they may have a few ideas for us."

...

_September 1st, 1997:_

"I have missed this bed!" Tom flung himself down on the carved four-poster bed in the head boy's quarters. "It's just as soft as I remembered. Here, you've really got to feel it for yourself." He pulled the Hogwarts head boy down on the bed next to him and wrapped his arms tightly around him.

The head boy laughed. "I think we need to be a little more discreet than this, Tom, now that you are a Hogwarts professor."

"Oh, all right." Tom pulled the crimson velvet curtains closed around the bed. "But the door is locked, and no one can see us through the windows, anyway. Well, except for Peeves, perhaps, and he wouldn't dare spy on us. He gasped and darted away like a frightened rabbit when I met him on the stairs earlier."

Harry laughed and buried his face against Tom's neck. "That's not what I meant. I meant that it may not be entirely appropriate for the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor to be in the head boy's bed on the first day of school."

"Oh, nonsense." A searing kiss pressed against Harry's mouth. "I've even cleared it with the new headmaster. He is a remarkably open-minded man, Severus, once you do him little favors like raising the dead. He agreed that our relationship is perfectly acceptable, as long as you are not in any of my classes. And I don't think you need any further education in Defense Against the Dark Arts anyway, my love, since you are already so very capable of leaving Dark wizards utterly defenseless... I even destroyed my own horcruxes just because you asked so nicely. Well, except for the part of my soul that will always dwell in you, of course. I do think that means you owe me a new pet, though, in exchange for Nagini. Perhaps for our anniversary-" Tom's kisses trailed down Harry's throat. "Severus was surprisingly agreeable when I spoke to him; I think his wife must have been a positive influence. Or maybe it's the pending arrival of the baby that has softened him. He even agreed to make your mother's werewolf friend the baby's godfather, he told me. _And _wait till you hear this: Severus even promised to consider you for the position of flying teacher next year, when Madam Hooch retires."

"Really?" Harry sat up in bed. "Snape would hire _me_? As a Hogwarts professor?"

Tom laughed. "Why so surprised, love? You have always been good on a broom, and now that you have mastered the art of flying without a broomstick as well, I think you will make a dazzling flying teacher. I do think the new headmaster makes much better hiring decisions than the previous one. The new potions professor is brilliant; she even managed to find a way to prolong old Dumbledore's life for many, many years... Although _why_ your mother would want to do that is still a mystery to me. Your strange soft-heartedness seems to run in the family. I hope your little brother or sister doesn't catch it."

"I'll make sure she does."

Tom grinned. "_And_ Severus finally hired the only Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher capable of lifting the curse that had been placed on that position all those years ago."

Harry kissed him on the lips. "It was _your_ curse, Tom."

"Precisely. Which is why it made so much sense to hire me, _finally, _quite apart from my brilliant qualifications. Though I can't imagine how many people Severus had to imperius at the Ministry to get them to agree to this... I really think Hogwarts will thrive under its new headmaster and his well-qualified staff. The new Divination professor is a distinct improvement over the old one, although I'm still not sure whether it is correct to refer to her as a _new_ professor. Apparently, she has taught here for over seventy-five years."

Harry smiled and shook his head. "I'm still having a hard time understanding that part, Tom. Apparently, Professor Snape and you and I are the only ones who remember that Sybill Trelawney used to be the Hogwarts divination teacher."

"Mhmmm." Tom's hands found Harry's skin under his clothes. "I mentioned it to McGonagall at her retirement party, and she laughed so hard that champagne squirted out her nose. She remembers Sybill very vividly from a Divination class they both failed back in their sixth year. The idea of Sybill Trelawney teaching Divination struck her as very humorous. Apparently, we have returned to a world where Sybill has been working as some sort of advisor at the Ministry of Magic for years, which explains a great deal about the current state of the economy."

Harry brushed Tom's hand away. "I like taking Divination with Madam Dumbledore. She is a little odd, perhaps, but very kind, and her visions seem very genuine. But the curious thing is that even Dumbledore himself seems to think that his sister has been teaching at Hogwarts for decades. He doesn't seem to recall her death at all."

Tom kissed him deeply. "Perhaps the seventeen year old Albus Dumbledore actually _did _listen to something you said, after all, Harry. He may not have been able to change who he was, but at least he was able to save his sister."

Tom began to unbutton Harry's shirt.

"Tom, you can't..."

Tom put a finger against Harry's lips. There was laughter in his silver-grey eyes. "Of course I can, love."

"But-"

"But what?"

"The welcoming feast is about to begin."

"Then we'll be fashionably late."

"But I'm the head boy! I'm supposed to be all responsible now."

"Harry," muttered Tom against his lips, while his hands brushed over Harry's bare skin. "_Surrender..."_

And Harry did.

_Fin._


End file.
